


PR For the Soul

by ProtonBeam



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ben Solo is a CEO, Ben Solo is a grump, Chewie is a dog, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Gangs, Happy Ending, Maz is a cat, Rey is a copywriter, Rose and Armitage like to play matchmaker, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tattoos, The Author Regrets Nothing, The First Order is Uber Eats, hux is a nice guy, seriously slowest burn ever, the author treats The Alchemist like a deck of taro cards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 90,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23545333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtonBeam/pseuds/ProtonBeam
Summary: Ben turned 34 only 2 months ago. It's said that if you don't find your soulmate by 35, your mark disappears and you'll walk the earth with half a soul the rest of your days. A promising future for the CEO of First Order. The problem is, Ben's soulmate mark is hidden in a tattoo sleeve he got during his stint as Kylo Ren in his 20s and he's all but lost hope. He has a company to run, PRs to work on with Rebel Media Group. Findingthe oneis proving impossible.Rey is working her way up as a copy writer. She's handed the opportunity of a lifetime to write PRs for the First Order, except the CEO is a certified grump.Summary: Ben and Rey are soulmates that have circled each other for years but are only now drawing together...
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 941
Kudos: 1269





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Yeah, Ma”_
> 
> _“Well hello Ben! Why are you answering your phone on a Friday evening? Shouldn’t you be out at a bar scouting for your soulmate?”_
> 
> _“You called to check on my love life?”_
> 
> _He hears his mother chuckle on the line as the elevator door opens to his foyer. Ben steps out depositing his jacket lazily on the ottoman by the console. Briefly, he checks in the hallway mirror to see if he’s turned green yet. Still no dice._

Ben grumbled to himself as he pulled the car door open and slid into the back seat with a huff. He could see the driver’s wide eyes in the rearview mirror, staring at him through the open privacy pane. Staring as though he’d personally offended him.  
  
“Take me home,” he ground out through gritted teeth.  
  
“But sir, I’ve been hired to serve you until midnight, it’s barely 9:00 PM?”  
  
“I. Don’t. Care. Take me home and do whatever you will with the rest of the paid time.”  
  
He slapped the button for the privacy screen and the pane slid up noiselessly, leaving him to stew in peace. Luckily the driver had more common sense than work ethic because he felt the car shift into gear and navigate into traffic.  
  
 _That fucker had the audacity to suggest this pathetic speed dating thing when he stole my girlfriend!  
  
_ Ben knows he’s being over dramatic. He and Rose had gone on a total of 2 dates. The first didn’t even count as one, they really just had a work lunch where he’d asked her out on a real date, kind of. _Fine_ , asked if she’d like to talk more over dinner - an invitation open to interpretation at best.  
  
She was cute, not really his type in retrospect, but great sense of humour, smart, and driven. He could at least see if this one was going to prove companionable since most women he met made him want declare himself asexual.  
  
After some vanilla texting, she agreed to that dinner with him and like the idiot he was, he’d suggested she meet him for drinks after work to ease into the night. That evening his COO, Hux, accompanied him to the bar for happy hour.  
  
That night Ben walked out of that bar by himself. Hux and Rose making googly eyes at each other thanks to that _stupid fucking mark_.   
  
Ok not just any mark, their soulmate mark. They matched. _Fuck_ he can’t even be angry, really. He wants that. _Wants_ that so bad he's envious. To the point he checks his reflection in the mirror daily to confirm whether he’s turned green. Every day he’s disappointed to see that, nope, he’s still just a pasty, mole riddled giant.  
  
At least if he was green there’d be a reason for his undesirability. He’d know that there was a reason he didn’t find his soulmate. Green people were sickly and repulsive, a fact that would have his soulmate claw her mark out for sure, right?  
  
Instead he’s just celebrated his 34th with nothing to show for himself other than an early adulthood of organized crime (though he feels he’s redeemed himself by taking the gang down), a relatively fulfilling career, a crappy (but mending) relationship with his family, and _no soulmate_.   
  
Sure he’s had the occasional sexual conquest, even dated for a few months at a time. But they thought he was unmarked, always on the lookout for their soulmate whom they inevitably found … usually right after him. ‘ _Good luck Ren’_ one girl had called him. She’s soulmated now.   
  
He heaves a long, irate sigh, shucking off his suit jacket and loosening the buttons on his sleeves in frustration. Looking out the window watching the city blur block by block, he rolls up his sleeves mindlessly in the temperature controlled cabin of the town car.  
  
His eyes draw back to his arms and he stares at his right forearm, tracing the outline of his unclaimed soulmate mark. Rounded wings and a sword in the middle with a star for a hilt, all in faded black.  
  
He shakes his head in disgust. Why this should bother him, he has no idea. He’s got a great career, he’s the CEO, President and Founder of First Order for crying out loud. Hux jokingly calls him _Supreme Leader_. On paper he’s living the dream. His soulmate should be happy to have him.  
  
Unmarked women throw themselves at him and he’s taken his romp in the hay just to feel the power dynamics here and there. But that began and ended in the first year his app went public. That was also 4 years ago, after he’d started building a new life for himself. And that phase lasted all of what? 3 times? He can’t even consider it much of a phase, more like scratching the proverbial itch … only to realize it’s like scratching a mosquito bite.  
  
It just never felt _right_. There was someone out there for him, someone whose mark matched his. Someone he felt like he was cheating on with these empty encounters. Someone he was destined to love so deeply, the apocalypse could crash on their heads and he wouldn’t give a single fuck because all that would matter is her.   
  
At least that’s supposed to be the principle. It’s what everyone taught you about soulmates and soulmate marks when yours presented.  
  
 _That mark tells you that someone out there is destined to be your other half. That together you share one soul and that once you meet you will be whole. When you find each other you’ll know because you’ll scent the other, unlike everyone else they’ll smell irresistible. It’ll put you in orbit of each other. Your marks will start to burn hot when they get near. When your marks finally touch, they’ll sear white, joining your souls and bonding you for life.  
  
_ That’s what his mother had said. Ha. Joke’s on her, his soulmate obviously either doesn’t exist or hates his guts. Or with his luck lives on the opposite end of the world happily married by now with 3 children and an unmarked but devoted husband.  
  
A twinge of guilt roils in his gut at the thought that perhaps he was responsible for killing his soulmate. An innocent bystander during one of the many turf wars he’d led. On behalf of the gang he was stupid enough to have wasted his youth on. He’d even come close to thinking he’d found her once.  
  
An out of the way drop off to one of their runners in a shitty town in buttfuck nowhere. One of his knights had a young hooded woman for a runner. She wore a decrepit hoodie pulled over her face, sleeves dangling long past her hands. It was the first time he’d felt drawn to anyone. His helmet had blocked the scent but the lure was there. Cardo was an idiot for having a woman (a young one at that) do his runs, but according to reports, she was effective and he insisted Ben meet her. He’d nicknamed her ‘the scavenger’, but he knew from other conversations her name was Kira.  
  
But he hadn’t _met_ her. Just watched the drop off happen, intimidating the shit out of the poor creature who, to his surprise, stood her own. Her cheeks were hollow so he assumed she was a junkie who used half the packages. But she stood tall, resolute, professional even. She probably didn’t survive to present day though. And yet they had never had problems with profits in that area...  
  
The car comes to a stop in front of his building. He unceremoniously grabs his jacket and pushes out of the car, terrifying the driver yet again.  
  
“Tell Hux I said thanks,” he barks back at the driver sardonically as he makes his way into his apartment building. He gives his security a curt nod making long strides towards the elevator. His foul mood makes him indifferent to the cheerful smile that greets him.  
  
What a stupid fucking massive waste of time. _Speed dating_. The whole debacle was a ridiculous round table of soulmate hungry men and women. Their forearms sprawled across the tables like a horny, desparte buffet. The men took 5 minutes to play musical chairs with each woman. Ultimately it took 10 seconds to compare marks and the remaining 4 minutes and 50 seconds were spent staring at the others in the room waiting for the timer to ding.  
  
He can’t believe he let that ginger prick talk him into such an enormous waste of time. Thank _God_ nobody recognized him, the media coverage would have been embarrassing.  
  
Ben left after the third table when he realized what the gig was. There was no scent in the room outside of cheap cologne and drugstore perfumes anyway. His mate wasn’t there.   
  
He has half a mind to call Hux, after he fortifies himself with a drink, and give him a hefty dose of uncensored shit. Then again, he probably won’t answer. The fucker’s too busy consumed in his domestic bliss with Rose.   
  
Rolling his eyes extravagantly, he swipes his fob and punches the PH2 button in the elevator with more force than necessary.   
  
His phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out, rolling his eyes yet again, when he sees his mother’s name on the display. There’s only one reason she’d call him on a Friday night.  
  
“Yeah, Ma”  
  
“Well hello Ben! Why are you answering your phone on a Friday evening? Shouldn’t you be out at a bar scouting for your soulmate?”  
  
“You called to check on my love life?”  
  
He hears his mother chuckle on the line as the elevator door opens to his foyer. Ben steps out depositing his jacket lazily on the ottoman by the console. Briefly, he checks in the hallway mirror to see if he’s turned green yet. Still no dice.  
  
His mother continues, “no Ben, I’m actually calling about that PR piece we’re trying to organize for your corporate website. I’m going to have Poe introduce you to the copywriter spearheading the piece.”  
  
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.   
  
“Explain to me again _why_ we need _another_ PR piece?”  
  
“Listen, son, we need pieces we can send our affiliate network to share, which will in turn boost your organic ranking. Would you rather swing by my office on Monday so I can have the department head explain the nuances?”  
  
“No. It’s fine. I trust you. I just … had a bad evening. Thanks for looking out Ma.”  
  
There was a long pause and he could all but hear his mother’s gears grinding.  
  
“Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
It was an olive branch, he knew that. Ever since they started trying to patch up their broken relationship she’d tried to reach out. Gingerly of course. To become more motherly. He wasn’t used to it. Wasn’t used to it as a kid and wouldn’t get used to it now. But she tries nonetheless.   
  
They’d settled on working together amiably, trusting First Order’s digital assets to the very capable hands of her Rebel Media Group. It’s a relationship of sorts as they navigate the broken pieces of their family.  
  
“No. There’s nothing to talk about.”  
  
“Ben … she’s out there. But you won’t find her moping about at home drowning in whiskey.”  
  
“Ma! What did I just say?”  
  
“Thanks for confirming the reason you’re in a foul mood. I’ll have Poe make the introduction. And Ben?”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
“I didn’t mean to pry. It comes from a place of love.”  
  
He lets loose another exaggerated eye roll, standing at his bar uncorking a bottle of Corellia’s finest single malt with his teeth. If tonight continues on this trajectory, he might snap his ocular muscles.  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Love you too. Bye Ma!”  
  
He hangs up throwing his phone on the sofa and reaches for a crystal tumbler, pouring himself a generous portion before re-corking the bottle.   
  
Taking his ‘nightcap’ in hand he moves to stand in front of the floor to ceiling windows, watching the expanse of downtown Coruscant on a Friday night. He’s so high up people look like ants below, a fact he’s grateful for because he doesn’t have to see couples holding hands or kissing. Groups of hopefuls heading to the entertainment district in search of their soulmates. People having what’s out of reach for him.  
  
He takes a sip, letting the amber liquid roll over his tongue and burn his throat on the way down. His forearm leans heavily against the window. All the wonderful things to see and do, all this life bursting at the seams, at his fingertips, and all he can think about is how lonely he feels. How she’s out there somewhere, completely indifferent to his pain. No matter how much he thinks she hates him, he can’t help but love her just for existing.  
  
He knows she’s real because he felt her come into the world. All of a sudden at the tender age of 10 he felt a side of himself awaken, one he didn’t even know was there. The other half of his soul suddenly springing to life and with it, searing that mark on his forearm.  
  
Ben takes another sip and looks at the arm bracing the window remorsefully.  
  
Back when he was part of the Knights of Ren, when he went by Kylo, he’d convinced himself that soulmates were the stuff of fairy tales. His fellow knights were unmarked and repeatedly tormented him about his.   
  
So, like the brilliant idiot he was, he’d gone and gotten a full sleeve on his right arm to bury his mark in a sea of ink. Even the tattoo artist thought he was insane, but Kylo needed to prove he wasn’t soft. He chose to bury his soulmate mark like he buried himself - he buried Ben and became Kylo Ren. He buried his mark in an intricate web of monochromatic tattoos.   
  
In retrospect, his sleeve probably made it hard for his soulmate to find him, so now, he won’t find her and it’s his own damn fault. He’s probably already met her but she couldn’t make heads or tails of his sleeve so had assumed he was unmarked, like all women did. Ben resists the urge to face palm himself.  
  
From what he’s heard, if you haven’t found your soulmate by 35 you won’t find them, _ever_. It’s said that your mark will fade and you’ll forever walk with half a soul. A riveting future that probably drives people to do stupid things like speed date.  
  
“Will it hurt, sweetheart? When our marks fade?”  
  
His pained voice echoes through the penthouse.  
  
He walks back to the bar to pick up the bottle. His liquid meal in hand, he shuffles back to his sectional sofa plopping himself down.  
  
“At least you’ll be free of this monster you were imprinted with.”  
  
Tonight, he’s feeling melancholic. The anger and frustration from the speed dating debacle fading, giving rise to the deep seated heartache he lives with daily. He’ll get drunk again and watch Netflix. The dog walker will be by to drop off his ancient Wookie, Chewie, so he’s free to get plastered. Probably turn on some documentary or whatever his tipsy mind chooses while he gets sloshed. Then he’ll drag himself to bed to jerk off like the sad, lonely fuck he is. If he doesn’t end up passing out on the couch that is.  
  
All the while his thoughts will be on a faceless stranger that, no doubt, wants nothing to do with him but who owns his heart regardless.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a thing for these 2 as soulmates and when I came across the concept of soulmate marks, my imagination just took off. Plus I really wanted to try my hand at a modern setting AU. Oh yeah, I'm borrowing the concept of scenting from the ABO trope, cause why not?
> 
> The tag stands - this author regrets nothing ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Her mind flashes back to a more delicate part of her adolescence, just after she left foster care at 18. She’d started doing some drug runs living in a rooming house until she got on her feet. Staying with Unkar was out of the question. The odd jobs she had as a teenager would result in most of her earnings going straight into his pockets._
> 
> _The first thing she’d done, with her very first envelope of cash, was go to the pound and adopt an unwanted creature. Not a fluffy kitten or sweet little puppy, but a chubby adult tabby with a nipped ear who’d probably been days away from euthanasia. She’d wanted to save a soul that was as lonely as hers. That’s how she’d gotten Maz. At first, the rooming house was in tizzy over it, but she promised the cat would keep to her room and that seemed to calm everyone down._

Rey is toweling her freshly washed hair after her Friday night soak. It’s a luxury she’s started indulging in since renting this flat, the large bathtub being a huge selling feature. Well, that and its proximity to work. If it’s cold, she’s a single metro stop away from the business park her office is located in. If it’s warm, she can walk the distance.  
  
The windows rumble as the train passes by her modest apartment, in a modest neighborhood, of the modest life she’s built for herself. A far cry from her humble beginnings and she can’t help but feel an odd sense of pride as she scrunches through her hair.  
  
Maz, her ancient tabby, rubs up against her legs mewling sweetly.   
  
“Maz, you bloody wanker! Your hair is going to get stuck in my moisturizer now.”  
  
She runs her hands over her shins and calves to loosen the cat hair off, mentally noting to brush the feline, when the doorbell rings. She perks up. Her Chinese food has arrived.  
  
Wrapping herself up in the plush bathrobe she snagged on sale, she bounds for the door, skipping all the while. After settling her bill on the First Order app and thanking the driver, she sets her bounty on the coffee table eyeing the cat.  
  
First, she’ll need to change into her sweatpants and feed Maz. The old cat will no doubt claw open her takeout containers and later regurgitate half digested Shanghai noodle crusted hair balls.  
  
Filling up the Maz’s bowl, Rey grabs her body oil to give herself a double dose of moisture before dressing in her lounge gear. The cool spring weather in Coruscant is so different from the weather in Jakku, where it’s hot year round.  
  
She spent her childhood bouncing around from the orphanage there, Our Lady Niima, to foster homes. Jakku, a small town in the south where it's hot and arid. Winter, spring, summer, fall - all seasons feel more or less the same, the only difference is that summer would scorche your skin a smidgeon more. That’s all she remembers, though she’s been told she was transferred from a British girls home when she was 5.   
  
Carefully depositing her robe on her bedroom chair, she begins to carefully massage the dry oil into her skin from her legs up. The light scent of grapefruit and magnolia with a bottom note of musk fills her senses and she relishes in the little moment of self care.   
  
In Jakku the plumbing was shoddy. The town itself was old, and piss poor politicians were too busy lining their pockets than deal with the actual hardships. They let Jakku’s residents down time and time again on infrastructure projects. Her whole childhood, baths were an unheard of luxury. The foster homes she lived in, which held at least 4 other kids at any given time, kept shower time to 10 minutes each. If you didn’t get it done, well, your hair would be conditioner greasy until your next allotted slot under the spray.  
  
Rey takes her time massaging up her body. Pushing her thumb pads into her calves, kneading her quads with her knuckles, using her palms to press into the sides of her thighs to ease the tension from her morning runs. She pauses at her lower back to look at her soulmate mark in her floor length bedroom mirror.  
  
She’s had the mark since birth. Her social worker, Maz (the angel for whom she’d named the cat), had told her that it meant her soulmate was older than her. Most likely, she speculated, he presented his own mark at the time of her birth. Her words were a small mercy. They gave her a twinge of hope that she _belonged_ to someone, even if her parents (foster or biological) didn’t want her.  
  
It was an odd placement for a mark. Instead of the standard forearm or less common neck, hers was on her lower back just left of her spine. She’s been self conscious of this misplacement her whole life, it made her feel defective. Her family didn’t want her. Her foster father tormented her about it. Her soulmate would probably think she’s some kind of freak. Besides, how would her soulmate ever find her? Who’d know to look _there_ when everyone else’s was in plain sight _?  
  
_Maz told her it was a special spot. That her soulmate would know when he met her. But Unkar, her last foster father, said she was damaged goods and no one would ever want her. Not even her soulmate, _the poor bastard_ , that’s what he’d said.  
  
Now she looks at it in the mirror tracing the rounded wings encasing a sword with a star for a hilt. She always told herself that it meant you had to fight in order to soar. That struggle and success were mutually inclusive. That she and her soulmate fight the same battle and will rise out of its ashes stronger, _together_. Those were the words she’d whisper to herself when she was down. The story she spun to give her life a little meaning.  
  
She wonders who he is, where he’s from. If he sees the same moon outside his window. She wonders what he looks like. If he has a family or is an orphan like herself. How much older is he? She came into this world already bearing his mark, so he must be at least what, 25?   
  
Rey’s 24 now and has been forging her own way in the world for the last 6 years since coming out of the system.  
  
Her mind flashes back to a more delicate part of her adolescence, just after she left foster care at 18. She’d started doing some drug runs living in a rooming house until she got on her feet. Staying with Unkar was out of the question. The odd jobs she had as a teenager would result in most of her earnings going straight into his pockets.  
  
The first thing she’d done, with her very first envelope of cash, was go to the pound and adopt an unwanted creature. Not a fluffy kitten or sweet little puppy, but a chubby adult tabby with a nipped ear who’d probably been days away from euthanasia. She’d wanted to save a soul that was as lonely as hers. That’s how she’d gotten Maz. At first, the rooming house was in tizzy over it, but she promised the cat would keep to her room and that seemed to calm everyone down.  
  
Her second goal was to enroll in college but that required money, so she established a relationship with a seedy guy named Cardo Ren who belonged to a well known gang called the Knights of Ren. He offered her a more permanent gig making drug runs on the regular. It wasn’t ideal, but that’s how she put herself through college and graduated with a degree in copywriting. An emerging field, her advisors had said.   
  
She remembers one night in particular. Cardo was making a covert delivery she’d run to smaller dealers in the area. It was dark and the alley smelled dank, weeks old garbage rotting in the dumpster because the trash collectors were on strike.   
  
Behind Cardo stood a tall, menacing figure in a black long sleeved henley rolled up above his elbow. He wore leather gloves and an intimidating black helmet with a chrome rimmed, blackout tinted visor. They’d come on their TIE fighter bikes. Kylo Ren, the terror of the group. She’d only heard rumblings of him but guessed the man in the shadows was him, the figure matching the lore she’d heard. He was massive, all broad shoulders and thick muscles. His corded neck and forearms prominent, highlighted with every bodily shift as they flexed. And yet, menace and all, she felt drawn to him.  
  
Her eyes naturally fell to his forearms. He was an unmarked male, she remembers. One forearm completely bare, the other covered in tattoos. The beautiful monochromatic art twining from under his gloved hand up his arm and into his rolled shirt sleeve.  
  
Why is she thinking of this now?  
  
A loud crash brings her mind back to present and she curses fumbling for sweat pants and a tank top.  
  
“For fucks sake Maz I _fed_ you! Keep your fuzzy muzzle out of _my_ food!”  
  
The old cat sprints into the bedroom, claws scraping against the parquet floors, ducking under the bed as Rey is left collecting the (luckily unspilt) containers from her living room floor. Shanghai noodles, egg rolls, and a hot and sour soup to start from her favourite place, Yavin.   
  
With a sigh Rey pours herself a glass of Shiraz (because wine goes with everything) and carefully lays her dinner out across her coffee table, turning the TV on to the fireplace channel.  
  
Her apartment may not be wired for a fireplace, nor is she ready to splurge on one of those nifty electric ones, but she enjoys the peaceful sounds of crackling wood, especially on a cold day like today.   
  
She eats her Friday night dinner peacefully, relishing in the tangy flavours while flipping through the MRK app on her phone. Pictures on pictures of soulmate marks but she swipes left on them all. None match hers. An incoming message saves her thumb from cramping.  
  
FINN: _you better be at a bar scouting out your soulmate!  
  
_Rey suppresses an eye roll. What _is_ it with everyone involving themselves in your love life?  
  
REY: _I’ve found them! Didn’t I tell you?  
  
_FINN: _SHUT UP!_ _Spill!  
  
_REY: _Yeah. Found him inside a First Order delivery. Last name Noodle, first name Shanghai.  
  
_FINN: _You had me there! Poe and I are going to The Resistance tonight. Care to join us?  
  
_Finn and Poe have been friends for exactly 2 years and 12 days. Rey met Finn exactly 2 years and 13 days ago. They both met at a recruitment agency running interviews for internship positions at Rebel Media Group. Finn was squirming in the waiting room. He looked about ready to run when Rey placed a calming hand on his forearm and told him everything would be OK.  
  
The next day they both interviewed at Rebel Media and got the internships. Two years later Rey made Senior Copywriter and Finn was a Senior Developer.  
  
Poe had been the one to interview and hire them. His friendship with Finn was instantaneous - like brothers separated at birth.  
  
Every Friday night the duo started their evening with a few rounds of drinks at the bar down the block from their office - the Resistance. A chic, modern place with white leather booths and a large white bar in the center. They almost always punctuated their evening with a drunken trip to their favourite nightclub downtown, The Empire, a dark and grungy club where drinks came cheap and the crowd was loose.  
  
Their justification for their weekly excursions was that they were on the ‘prowl’ which, to Rey, meant they were looking for their soulmates. But she had half a mind that they really just enjoyed shooting the shit with each other and this was just a convenient excuse to bro-bond.  
  
She rolls her eyes at her phone as she shovels in a mouthful of noodles.  
  
REY: _I’m good! Have fun you two! Maybe tonight is the night_ 😉  
  
She finds their joint endeavours sweet. That’s the thing about soulmate marks. If you have one but haven’t found your mate, you’re always searching. Like life decided to gift you a scavenger hunt where the end prize was your soul. It’s a lonely search and there’s a desperate undertone to it all. You only have so long before the mark fades. These two found a wingman in each other which must make their search much less lonely.  
  
FINN: _One of these days we’re dragging you out. You won’t find yours at home you know!  
  
_REY: _I thought I made it clear. My soulmate is food!  
  
_FINN: _That won’t keep you warm at night_ 🤤  
  
REY: _Disagreed  
  
_REY: _Soup is delicious, nutritious, and warms the soul  
  
_FINN: _But it doesn’t stroke that fire  
  
_REY: _There are other ways to do that…  
  
_FINN: _Alright stop right there. Too far.  
  
_FINN: _Have a great night!  
  
_FINN: _But seriously, consider coming out one night  
  
_FINN: _What do you have to lose?  
  
_She knows he’s right. She could always use Maz’s timed feeder or ask her neighbor to cat-sit, pack an overnight bag and crash at Finn’s or Rose’s. His studio apartment is right in the core. Or she could just go for drinks after work. The Resistance is always packed for Happy Hour on a Friday.  
  
REY: _One of these days. Have fun you crazy kids!  
  
_Why she’s too chickenshit to go, she’s never fully understood.  
  
Unkar Plutt always said she was an undesirable, rejected by her own parents and society as a whole. No one wanted to adopt her. So maybe now she has a complex she’s not ready to admit to having. One that _may_ involve a fear of rejection.  
  
She doesn’t want to dwell on this. The reality of her life sometimes gives her anxiety and she wants to surround herself with peace. Like ancient battle meditation. At least until she's ready to soar, to conquer the broken pieces of herself that come from a life lived in shards.  
  
Taking a long pull from her wine glass, Rey gathers her empty containers and cleans up the remnants of her dinner. The leftover noodles will make a perfect snack tomorrow and her weekend is chock full of plans. Plans to stay in, read, maybe do some laundry and put in some extra time on writing projects. She’s been meaning to finish that SEO course she started online.  
  
She gathers her current book and snuggles into the sofa cushions. Maz has decided to grace her with her presence and begins settling into her lap, milking the fluffy blanket while purring her contentment.  
  
A picture of the masked Kylo Ren flashes in her mind but she shakes it out as soon as it comes. He’s probably dead, she’d seen the headlines years ago coinciding with her clean break from a life of crime.  
  
**House Of Ren Destroyed: Famous Gang Nudie Bar Explosion. All Members Inside Pronounced Deceased.  
  
**“It’s just you and me old girl,” she lovingly pats Maz’ head and opens her book to settle in for the night.  
  
Her phone vibrates again.  
  
POE: _Come out.  
  
_REY: _Don’t you have a bromance to attend to?  
  
_What is with these two?  
  
POE: _As your project manager I insist you take a proactive approach to solving problems.  
  
_REY: _9-5 buddy! Lecture me all you want during those hours.  
  
_REY: _You and Finn should compare marks. Are you sure you’re not mates?  
  
_POE: _LOL that’s why you should come out! Finn is great but that sense of humour is priceless.  
  
_REY: _Maybe next time Poe. Have a great night!  
  
_With that, Rey tucks herself into the blanket with her book, Maz long asleep on her lap. It’s moments like this, before the story absorbs her, that she feels both most content and utterly alone. She lets the story carry her away as the last remnants of her thoughts flit to her soulmate.  
  
_I wonder if he’s a hermit like me._

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He hates crowds with a passion and crossing the city to the business park with hordes of germy strangers is his personal idea of hell. His office is now only 3 stops away and he hopes he won’t get compacted any further against the opposite door by the time he gets there._
> 
> _At least he gets to read his favourite book for the umpteenth time in his life. The usual morning traffic on the streets above of no concern now that someone else was driving._
> 
> _Someone joined his car wearing strong perfume and, to add insult to injury, their breakfast in tow. He scowls at the rudeness of this gesture. It smells like cinnamon buns, vanilla and light feminine musk. What if someone is allergic to cinnamon or your perfume you inconsiderate twat?_
> 
> _Not him though. He loves the smell of cinnamon buns and vanilla, and hell, even this particular brand of feminine musk. Ben flares his nostrils to let the scent waft in. It makes his mouth water._

It’s a cold and rainy Monday morning in Coruscant. The air smells of early spring melt and wet concrete. The entire city is shrouded in a drizzly haze. It’s perfect weather for productivity.  
  
Of course Ben’s Monday would start with an epic fucking bang. After wasting his weekend nursing the hangover he gave himself Friday night - a multi day affair now that he’s in his 30s - Ben woke up excited to do something productive with himself.  
  
He got up at 5:00 AM bright eyed and bushy tailed. He’d showered, made himself a black double espresso, took Chewie out, went for a run, and was getting into his Silencer when the car decided today was the day it wouldn’t start.  
  
It was the bucket of ice water that drenched his blossoming Monday morning.  
  
He’d called his mechanic who came to diagnose the car. A perk when you pay exorbitant amounts of money for both the car and the servicing of said vehicle. Snap Wexley made house calls and this morning at 7:30 AM he wiped his greasy hands on his overalls while giving Ben the worst news - he’d need to run more diagnostics at the shop. It looked like trouble was brewing with the transmission. That’s what you get for buying a prototype.  
  
Snap had the car towed to the shop, leaving Ben to peruse public transit. That’s how he finds himself rubbing hand sanitizer into his palms for the 5th time in half an hour packed like a sardine in a crowded subway train.  
  
He’s wearing a beanie, sunglasses, a black long sleeved tee, black jeans and a black leather jacket, hoping the grungy getup won’t get him noticed. Once thoroughly disinfected he pulls out a well worn copy of The Alchemist to try to tune out the chattering of plebs. The train stops to let on another wave of commuters.  
  
He hates crowds with a passion and crossing the city to the business park with hordes of germy strangers is his personal idea of hell. His office is now only 3 stops away and he hopes he won’t get compacted any further against the opposite door by the time he gets there.   
  
At least he gets to read his favourite book for the umpteenth time in his life. The usual morning traffic on the streets above of no concern now that someone else was driving.  
  
Someone joined his car wearing strong perfume and, to add insult to injury, their breakfast in tow. He scowls at the rudeness of this gesture. It smells like cinnamon buns, vanilla and light feminine musk. What if someone is allergic to cinnamon or your perfume you inconsiderate twat?  
  
Not him though. He loves the smell of cinnamon buns and vanilla, and hell, even this particular brand of feminine musk. Ben flares his nostrils to let the scent waft in. It makes his mouth water.  
  
_ Fuck _ now he can’t even enjoy his favourite book in peace. He digs into his resolve and lifts the book up to his face, trying to block out the scent with no success. The irritability that’s been building since his car crapped out is threatening to boil over. Why is no one else bothered by the intense scent this female douche dragged in this early in the morning? It irritates him on principle. Because he can’t fucking think of anything other than devouring a half dozen cinnamon buns and said human.  
  
The train stops at the next exit, 2 more stops of this claustrophobic clusterfuck and he can sit in his airy office overlooking the zen courtyard of his building. The first thing he’ll do is turn on the atomizer Hux and Rose gave him for his birthday last month, letting the herbal aromas wash away the smells of his commute. They meant for it to help relax him when he got into his raging fits and though he won’t admit it to them, it works.   
  
He feels pressure on his right as people shift to let a woman off the train. As she pushes past him, pardoning herself with an exquisite British accent, her elbow brushed his. Her hair is up in a messy bun that’s held up by a distinct blue lightsaber pen. He feels a jolt of electricity snaking up his forearm, concentrating in a knot of pure heat.  
  
Stunned, he breaks eye contact with his book to glance at his arm then up to see her clear the doors just as they shut. She seems to pause as if she too felt the shock.   
  
The train lurches forward and all he can do is stare, realizing she’s the one who sent the electric jolt up his arm. She’s also the one who smelled like cinnamon buns. She’s also only carrying a purse instead of baked goods.  
  
As the train enters the tunnel, his mouth still parted, he glances back at his book:  
  
“ _ And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it. _ ”   
  
_ Fuck. _

  
  


—————————————————-    
  


It's 7:50 AM and Rey is eager to get to work. Poe mentioned he’d be briefing her on a new project he’d like her to spearhead at 9:00 AM. She’d like to guzzle at least one cup of coffee before having to face him, and  _ definitely _ finish the keyword map she’d started drafting for the Mos Eisley website.   
  
Poe, bless his charismatic soul, was  _ way _ too much of a morning person. Although Rey, in her own rights, is an early riser, she’s definitely not chipper before her cup of Joe. And her sense of humour  _ definitely _ doesn’t come out to play until at least 10:00 AM.  
  
Having no client meetings today she opted to wear a pair of black skinny jeans, knee high riding boots, and a white chunky knit sweater paired with a white blanket scarf to keep the spring thaw at bay. She’d tossed her hair up in a messy bun and stuck her lucky pen in, a blue lightsaber, for any notepad emergencies. She’d won it at the county fair when she was a kid. Well, not really won, it was more of a consolation prize for playing but it was something to call her own, something she had history with.  
  
Clutching her purse at her side, her phone and transit card in hand she squeezes her way through the morning commuter crowd to catch the metro currently stopped at the platform.  
  
One of these days she’ll lease a car. One of these days she’ll make coffee  _ before _ flying out of her apartment to catch the train. One of these days she’ll be in a half decent mood when she waltzes into the office.  
  
It never ceases to amaze her how productive Coruscant is. Back on Jakku the streets would be deserted well into the late morning. People would mosey into their place of work at all hours then laze about doing the bare minimum.   
  
But here? The metro is packed at 8:00 AM. A fact that used to energize her when she first moved, now it annoys her to no avail. Because now she has to pick her way through the crowd carefully without getting into an argument, coffee spilt on her, or arriving late. Navigating commuter traffic was like trying to negotiate your way out of a drunken fist fight. Fucking impossible.  
  
She makes it into the first train car and feels herself get shoved further in as more commuters join. Why she chose to take the metro this morning is beyond her. The office is a single stop away and she could have walked but it’s cold and drizzling and she’d rather be sandwiched between strangers than arrive soggy.  
  
She wavers as the train starts to move after the doors shut and reaches for the first bar to steady herself. That’s when she’s hit with the intense scent of cocoa, tobacco leaf and ginger. Some asshole decided to take a cologne shower this morning and everyone on the train now has to suffer.  
  
What if someone is allergic to your cologne you inconsiderate prick?   
  
Not her though, she quite likes the combination and it lulls her into a dreamy state. She wants to bottle it up then rub it all over her bed and snuggle into it to sleep forever. It smells like sunshine, and rainbows, and home, and forever … and it’s … oddly familiar?  
  
Rey is so entranced in the  _ totally pure _ things she’d do with that scent that she barely registers the train coming to her stop or the doors hissing open. A heavier set man’s exit tugs at her purse breaking her reverie, snapping her back to present. Necessity overtakes her and she too starts pushing through bodies excusing herself curtly, hoping to make it off the train before it moves on.  
  
As she brushes past a tree of a man reading a book onto the platform she feels a jolt of electricity run up her spine concentrating in her lower back. She stumbles out past the doors and stops dead in her tracks, her feet feel like concrete. The doors hiss closed behind her and she stands utterly shocked, her breath caught in her chest and her heart beating double time.  
  
There’s no way that was what she thinks it was. No way. Nuh-uh. She shakes her head. Must have made contact with someone’s portable charger or static electricity. And yet, her mark feels like it’s burning.  
  
She looks back at the train just as it pulls into the tunnel.  _ Impossible _ . She shakes the feeling out and takes the escalator up to street level walking to the front doors of her office building in a daze. Not even the cold drizzle eliciting a reaction from her.  
  
On autopilot, she doesn’t register concierge saying good morning, or swiping her key card past security, or pressing the elevator button.  
  
As the elevator doors close behind her and she pushes the button to the floors of Rebel Media Group, she finds herself rubbing her lower back smiling with hope blooming in her chest.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _A throat clears in the background and they both whip around schooling their faces into a semblance of professionalism._
> 
> _Poe is standing there, having performed his best imitation of the General’s ‘Ahem’._
> 
> _“Curse you Poe, you almost had us,” Rose whines indignantly at him._
> 
> _If there was a sound everyone in the office was petrified of, it was that of the General. The sound of her voice alone could realign the stars._
> 
> _He ignores her protest and chuckles as he turns to Rey._
> 
> _“You ready?”_

She doesn’t register the elevator ding or the doors sliding open. In fact, she almost fails to get off her floor completely, if it wasn’t for Rose calling her by name from the landing.  
  
“Good Morning Rey! How was your weekend?”  
  
Rose, like Poe, was an early morning person. She used to be a senior copywriter alongside Rey but had been promoted to the SEO team. With a mathematical mind frame, Rose applies algorithmic precision to her writing. Her work so good, she’d been transferred to SEO because Rose’s pieces  _ always _ ranked. Her skills were of better use there than cranking out listicles or click-baity articles.  
  
“Riveting,” Rey’s Monday-morning-mood reply comes out in a huff as she pushes through the elevator doors.  
  
Rose giggles and threads her arm through Rey’s, walking her to her cubicle.   
  
“Armie and I  _ finally _ got to have dinner at Canto Bight. It took him eons to get the reservation. And you know what?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“It wasn’t even that good. The place is so stush. Don’t get me wrong it was posh and all, but I couldn’t tell the difference between their pasta and Olive Garden’s…”  
  
Rose looks at Rey while she deposits her purse and phone on her desk. She’s rubbing her lower back subconsciously, staring blankly in the distance.  
  
“You ok babe?”  
  
Rey meets Rose’s concerned gaze and nods smiling, willing the brain fog away.  
  
“Yeah I just had an … interesting morning so far.”  
  
“Wanna talk about it?”  
  
Bless Rose for being her adorable self. She sits herself on Rey’s desk, her dark jeans tucked into her combat boots that she swing in the air like a preschooler at the playground. With a big grin she darts her eyes between Rey and her chair, beckoning her to sit down. The universal sign to  _ spill the beans _ .  
  
Rey lets out a long sigh. She needs to get her shit together. Today is a big day. She’s getting briefed on a project she’s spearheading.   
  
Normally she wouldn’t be nervous about it. But normally new projects landed in her email inbox unceremoniously with an attachment. A briefing meant it was a big opportunity and a big client. She needs her wits about her to nail it and prove her worth. A static shock to her back shouldn’t send her into a tailspin, nor should the best scent in the galaxy short circuit her brain.  
  
“I’ll tell you what I want to talk about Rose…” she grabs her oversized ‘cat-ffeinated’ novelty mug waving it in Rose’s face, “I want to talk about getting this bad boy filled up.”  
  
They make their way to the staff lounge together while Rose continues to rip into Canto Bight like a professional food critic. Like her favourite food in the world isn’t greasy Hawaiian pizza with extra pineapple, a fact Rey hasn’t forgotten since their first girls night over a year ago.  
  
As Rey pours her coffee into her mug, Rose leans in to quietly whisper.  
  
“I gave Armie head in the limo on the way back from the restaurant,” she waggles her eyebrows mischievously.  
  
“ROSE!”  
  
They erupt into a flurry of giggles scaring the General's PA, Kaydel, out of the lounge.   
  
“Oh my God Rose! You exhibitionist. Please tell me the privacy pane was up?”  
  
“Of course it was and it was  _ glorious _ !”  
  
Rose is mated to Armie. She’s never met the guy but he made Rose so happy he must be some sort of walking deity. Oddly enough, their friendship has revolved around Rose  _ trying _ to get Rey out with Armie and his friends and Rey clinging to her hermit roots like a liferaft in a storm.  
  
She can’t imagine life without a mated Rose, but she  _ can  _ imagine life without Rose sharing every detail of their intimacies. At this point she, unfortunately, could probably cite every detail of Armie’s dick. It’s not like Rose’ll ever stop oversharing, that’s ever going to happen. Rose’s de-facto condition  _ is  _ oversharing.  
  
“Well I also got it in this weekend,” she wags her eyebrows right back at her as she stirs creamer in her coffee.  
  
Rose’s jaw drops and she nudges her for more. Details, it turns out, are also Rose’s kryptonite. She’s a blubbering mess until she’s deconstructed the topic of conversation.  _ Especially _ if it’s sexual in nature.  
  
“Oh yeah. Got the laundry  _ in  _ the washer. Then I got it  _ in _ the dryer. Then I got Shanghai noodles  _ in _ my belly…” she rubs her stomach sarcastically licking the stir stick.   
  
Rose snorts out a laugh in answer, shaking her head.  
  
“Hey Rey? Armie has a guy we’d like to set you up with. His name’s Snap, he’s our mechanic and a real good guy. You don’t have to of course but … you know … maybe get it in for realsies?”  
  
They break down into another peal of laughter. Rose has always considered Rey’s provincial life fascinating, but she has also been her number one fan since their friendship bloomed. Always egging her on to aim for more, achieve greatness, be a better version of herself, find a magical dick to ride.   
  
_ The kind of best friend a girl couldn’t ask for,  _ she rolls her eyes mentally.   
  
A throat clears in the background and they both whip around schooling their faces into a semblance of professionalism.  
  
Poe is standing there, having performed his best imitation of the General’s ‘Ahem’.  
  
“Curse you Poe, you almost had us,” Rose whines indignantly at him.  
  
If there was a sound everyone in the office was petrified of, it was that of the General. The sound of her voice alone could realign the stars.  
  
He ignores her protest and chuckles as he turns to Rey.  
  
“You ready?”   
  
Rey looks down at her brimming mug of coffee, the remnants of electricity still tingling on her back, notes of cocoa and tobacco leaf still nudging her olfactory system. It’s now or never.  
  
“Yeah let’s do this.”  
  
She’s ready for this. She was  _ born _ for this and she’s going to crush this opportunity.  _ You have to fight to soar _ , nothing ever comes from sitting idly.  
  
Before she walks out of the lounge behind Poe, she turns to Rose with a smile, taking a big energizing sip from her mug.   
  
“You know, I think I’ll take that date.”   
  


[X]   
  


It’s 10:30 AM and Rey’s polished off her first mug of coffee, nursing its baby sister at her desk. The meeting had gone exceptionally well.  
  
Poe and the General had given her a briefing on the importance of their relationship with the First Order. They are their biggest account and on top of the usual development and SEO work, it was time for another media push to reignite public awareness. For this, the plan was simple.   
  
The company had become faceless in the years after going public and their users were starting to trickle into competing food delivery apps like The Cantina. In order to refocus the public, they would publish a series of PR pieces on some of the executives of First Order. It would humanize the company.  
  
Those PRs would be sent to their affiliates who would then disseminate them through their network of websites. They’d cast a net so wide anyone looking for anything would see them, provided they were using the internet.  
  
The target list was as follows: 

  * Benjamin Solo (President and Founder)
  * Armitage Hux (Chief Operations Officer)
  * Enric Pryde (Chief Financial Officer)
  * Dopheld Mitaka (Chief Marketing Officer)



  
There would also be a few accompanying pieces on corporate culture, the company’s commitment to sustainability, and their UX team (user experience, Poe clarifies as though she doesn’t work in digital).  
  
Rey had suggested running a social media campaign in parallel with a mix of behind-the-scenes videos, live streams, and engaging posts to further disseminate the information. The General and Poe thought her idea was brilliant and tried to furiously work it into the budget.  
  
Overall it was a meaty project that could help carve out her place as a copywriter. Rey was excited to get it going but needed Poe to introduce her to the C Suites at First Order to start the interviewing process.  
  
Rey sits at her desk tapping away on the Mos Eisley keyword map, adjusting terms on the priority list and picking off a few stragglers that made it in when the email notification comes in.

——

From:  poedameron@rebelmediagroup.com  
To:  b.solo@firstorder.com ,  a.hux@firstorder.com ,  e.pryde@firstorder.com ,  d.mitaka@firstorder.com ,  reyniima@rebelmediagroup.com  
CC:  leiaorgana@rebelmediagroup.com  
Subject: First Order PR - Introductions

Good morning Gentlemen,  
  
I’d like to thank you for trusting Rebel Media with your digital assets and your continued support for our tactics.  
  
As previously discussed with Mrs. Organa, our next phase is to publish a series of PR pieces to boost public opinion, thus reengaging users and triggering a new wave of downloads.   
  
To achieve this goal, I’d like to introduce you to our Senior Copywriter who will be responsible for piecing together the content, Ms. Rey Niima.  
  
Please give Ms. Niima your availability this week for a conference call to get the project moving. The call will include a series of in-depth questions so please set aside a minimum of 1 hour.  
  
If you have any questions, feel free to give me a shout. 

  
Sincerely,  
  
Poe Dameron  
Sr. Project Manager  
Rebel Media Group

——

God Poe is so wordy. Her email would have been 3 lines - ‘hi there, hope all is well’, ‘when are you available for a call?’, and ‘looking forward to chatting’. For a professional word wrangler she believes in something she’s coined  _ word economy _ . Use words smartly, sparingly, and aim for maximum impact.  
  
As a copywriter, she doesn’t have a set schedule so she moves the email into her project folder and waits for responses from the First Order. No point in guessing their availability, she’ll work her schedule around theirs. Pulling the Mos Eisley keyword map up again she goes back to sorting.  
  
By 11:00 AM she gets her first response.

——

From:  b.solo@firstorder.com   
To:  a.hux@firstorder.com   
CC:  reyniima@rebelmediagroup.com  
Subject: Hux Project

Hux,  
  
I don’t have time for chit chat. See to it that Ms. Niima is given what she needs.  
  
B.S.

——

BS indeed. What an asshole. If his email is any indication of how hard it’ll be to paint him in an endearing light, her job just got  _ much _ harder.   
  
A little voice in her head reminds her that priggishness is the payout for word economy. The more terse the email, the higher the probability of ruffling feathers. But no, she’s pretty sure he’s a dick. Most founders of market disruptors are. They think they’re God’s gift to society (and usually women by extension).  
  
For some reason she’s pretty certain this project will be the bane of her existence.   
  
_ Steely resolve come through, because mama needs to bring this one home! _

—-

From:  a.hux@firstorder.com  
To:  b.solo@firstorder.com ,  reyniima@rebelmediagroup.com  
Subject: Re: Hux Project

Hello Ms. Niima,  
  
I’ve confirmed Ben’s schedule and we’re available for a conference call tomorrow at noon. Please confirm this works for you?  
  
We’ll be taking the call in Ben’s office. Extension 501.  
  
Looking forward to chatting with you.  
  
Ben, the conference has been confirmed and cordoned off in your schedule by your PA.

Kind Regards,

Armitage Hux  
Ba.H, MBA

——

She likes this Mr. Hux guy. That’s decided.  
  
“Rey? I’ve got you confirmed for tomorrow night at 7:00,” Rose rounds the corner to her cubicle.   
  
Rey chokes on her coffee looking at Rose expectantly. What on earth is this woman talking about? There’s no way I’m staying that late for any…  
  
“Snap? The date?”  
  
_ Oh.  
  
_ “Okay, great!”  
  
“I’ll text you deets when I get more info from Armie.”  
  
Rose’s smile could light up the bowels of hell. She looks so content with herself walking away, Rey can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt knowing it probably won’t work out because her soulmate was on the metro this morning.  
  
_ Fuck!  _ There goes her mind again. It was  _ not _ her soulmate, just static electricity and  _ really _ good,  _ really _ expensive cologne.  
  
She shakes her head pulling up the reply all window to draft her confirmation. This craziness has got to stop. She’s got a certified grump to deal with.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What do you do again? Rose didn’t say.”_
> 
> _Rey lets out a huffed laugh._
> 
> _“I’m a copywriter.”_
> 
> _“Could have fooled me. You sound like an engineer.”_
> 
> _“Just a car enthusiast I suppose,” she smiles kindly at him, taking a sip of her crappy wine._
> 
> _The rest of the evening went off just fine. She knew the moment she sat in the restaurant this wasn’t going to work out. Rey assumed her mate would have more eclectic culinary tastes than Raddus. Though until he showed up, it hadn’t been about finding her mate. Or had it? Her nose reminds her of delicious cocoa and tobacco leaf._

By the time Ben gets home on the drizzly, cold Monday evening, he’s got a delightful voicemail from his mechanic stating he’ll need to keep the car a few days longer to run more diagnostics. The good news, he says, is he’s in contact with the manufacturer, TIE, to resolve the issue.  
  
Normally the change in his regimented schedule would have driven him to break something, sending him spiraling into a burning hot rage. Instead Ben feels surprisingly calm, taking Chewie for a long, leisurely walk all the while concocting a plan to run into the woman who turned his life on its axis less than 12 hours ago.   
  
He’ll take the same train, at the same time tomorrow. If she’s his mate she’s got to be as anal about her schedule as he is. Maybe he’ll even get off 2 stops early and meander about a bit to see if he can catch her. The plan is, of course, half baked at best and he knows it. What if she’s a shift worker? What if she was running an errand like picking up toilet paper? What if that stop isn’t even her regular route? What if, like him, her car crapped out and she was forced to use public transportation with the plebs?  
  
He knows it’s a stretch, but he’s got a few days to stalk her. If that was what he thinks it was, and he’s pretty sure it was… she’s the one. He just needs to confirm it, see her mark. Stalking is _totally_ appropriate when it’s your soulmate.  
  
After a wholesome dinner of take out Shanghai noodles from Yavin, and a generous portion of whiskey, he relaxes on his sofa propping open his book, Chewie snoring quietly beside him.  
  
“ _Everything that happens once can never happen again. But everything that happens twice will surely happen a third time._ ”

  
  


[X]

  
  


The problem with Tuesday morning is that it’s pouring rain. A thick, heavy sheet of rain that drenches you if you’re caught without an umbrella. And even that could barely save your upper half. So of course, he’s late catching the train having to return home for said umbrella.   
  
Fan- _fucking_ -tastic.  
  
She’s not on the train and he briefly toys with the idea of getting off at her stop, pretending to read the paper while waiting for her. Except the smell of wet, packed humans is making him want to lobotomise himself. More specifically he’d like to sever his olfactory system with a rusty, blunt preschool scissor.   
  
He gets to his office just in the nick of time and is flooded with a barrage of sign-offs, reports, and questions he’s pretty fucking sure he’s paying good money to _not have to_ answer. Mitaka meets with him to discuss marketing budgets which eat up most of his morning to boot and by 11:50 AM, he’s a certified grump.   
  
He plans on spending the next half hour enjoying his coffee and searching the MRK app for her. Maybe she’s digitally savvy and is searching for him on there. Either way he’d like to carve out a moment of peace on this miserable day after the shitty morning and shittier marketing meeting.   
  
If she’s out there, and she felt it too, maybe she put herself on the app to speed up the process. He’d never put himself on there for the world to see, but maybe she would? Besides, isolating his mark out of the sea of ink on his forearm would be nearly impossible. He swipes left on at least a dozen before Hux barges into his office.  
  
“You ready?”  
  
“What for?”  
  
“An intergalactic war, obviously,” Hux’s face unreadable until the slight tick of his lips gives him away. Ben fixes him with a pointedly annoyed stare.  
  
“The call. Ms. Niima? At noon?”  
  
Ben rolls his eyes, he’d all but forgotten about that little side project. His mother’s tactics have always been nothing short of effective. The woman had an eye for deployment and when she did, it was with military precision. Nothing she’s ever suggested for First Order failed. To that effect she had a knack for hiring the brightest talent in the country, employees that were expert marksmen in their fields. He’d even heard grumblings that her employees nicknamed her “The General”. _Fitting_ , he muses to himself.  
  
That doesn’t stop the wave of annoyance from rolling over him. The amount of reports he’s got to pour over, and the conference call he needs to prepare for with his VCs add pressure he’d rather not put off on account of another pet project. He leans back in his chair, closing the app and placing his phone face down.  
  
Pinching the bridge of his nose he takes a deep breath in, “tell me again why we’re wasting our time on this?”  
  
Hux settles across from Ben’s desk crossing his arms and leaning back.  
  
“Because, in case you haven’t noticed, Ben, we’re losing customers to The Cantina. They’re new, their marketing resonates with the younger crowd and we’re …” he tilts his head, “old news. We need to shift the spotlight back on us. Re-invigorate our brand perception.”  
  
Ben nods. Of course he knows this shit. Why is the ginger prick lecturing him? Oh, right. He asked for it. He just sighs in response. But he can’t help wanting to press on, play devil’s advocate. If nothing else arguing with _anyone_ will take the edge off his general annoyance.  
  
“My mother’s words sound less convincing coming from you. Our network of restaurants is light years ahead of theirs. If those plebs want to order from the same 3 places, it’s their loss.”  
  
Hux snorts and Ben knows he’s starting to frustrate him. _Good_ . They may be friends, but he hasn’t forgiven him for Friday night and he wants to bleed that wound a little more.  
  
The two men sit there sizing each other up. Ben lets out a frustrated huff and leans forward palming his face in his hands when Hux doesn’t take the bait.  
  
“Are you still mad about the speed dating thing?”  
  
“No! We already went through this. It was a terrible idea and I blame you for it completely…” he meets Hux’s expressionless gaze with a twinge of sadness, then continues softly, “but I’m not mad. I would have probably tried it at some point anyway.”  
  
Hux releases his arms, his demeanour shifting from defensive to concerned. The emotion briefly flickers across his schooled expression before it’s gone.  
  
“Don’t worry Ben, we’ll find her. We’ve been friends since we were kids. You're the only one who stood by my side against those shitheads. Then by some miracle you decided I - a pasty, lanky, uptight nerd - was worthy enough to be your friend, and later to manage operations here. I _owe you_ , so rest assured I’m your number one fan and _I am_ looking for her.”  
  
Ben meets his eye remembering the poor little pasty kid getting pummeled by the schoolyard bully. A small smile twitches at the corners of his mouth.  
  
“Yeah yeah,” he throws his arms up, briefly running them through his hair and waving the touchy conversation away. Since he’s been with Rose, Hux’s bristly side, and oh he used to be bristlier that a boar, has subsided. He’s become a really good friend, albeit a fucking thief.  
  
“You’re not mad about Rose still are you?”  
  
 _That pasty little fuck has the audacity_ …  
  
The phone rings. Rebel Media Group flashes on the display.  
  
Hux leans over and presses the speaker button diffusing the daggers Ben is shooting his way. Or at least temporarily pausing the murder in his eyes.  
  
“This is Hux. Miss Niima I presume?”  
  
There’s a moment of silence, and then, the most melodious voice Ben has ever heard rings clear through the speaker with a rich, British accent.   
  
“Hello Mr. Hux, call me Rey, please. It’s wonderful to make your acquaintance. Will Mr. Solo be joining the call as well?”  
  
Whatever anger was building from his COO’s snide comment washes away instantly and is replaced by … what is that? Is serendipity a feeling?  
  
Ben’s jaw flaps open but no words come out, a croak of a _‘yeah’_ that’s barely audible. No way he gets soulmate electrocuted by a Brit then is on a call with one the next day. _Impossible_ .  
  
“He’s here. Thank you for taking the time to chat with us today Rey. Armitage can be a bit of a mouthful so please just call me Hux. And Mr. Solo is just Ben.”  
  
“Perfect! We’ll be the one syllable crew,” she jokes, an obvious attempt at breaking tension and setting a friendly tone for the call. He can appreciate Ms. Niima’s phone etiquette.  
  
Hux takes charge of the call on their side, thankfully, because Ben still can’t find his voice. Visions of a stranger with a lightsaber pen and cinnamon buns scrambling his thought processes. A pathway to his future opens up with angels singing and birds fucking chirping and little children giggling and running around into the arms of a faceless, chestnut haired woman. His brain is short circuiting the worst way possible and he knows it, tries desperately to find his balance, regain his center.  
  
“We’re looking forward to our joint project. Why don’t you start with the questions you’ve no doubt prepared?”  
  
When Ben finally, _finally_ , regains a modicum of control and chimes in, he puts his foot in his mouth as usual.  
  
“This is gonna be an astronomical waste of time.”  
  
 _Total babe magnet._

  
  


—————————————————-

  
  


“Rose he’s absolutely, unequivocally, bloody impossible!”  
  
The two women are taking the metro home and discussing Rey’s earlier call.   
  
She’d kept to her questions and even tried to sprinkle in humour when the insufferable Ben Solo would fire off some snippy remark. She’d even kept the call to exactly 55 minutes, making sure to steer back on track when Hux would go off on a tangent. She focused on getting those power kernels of info that would make her pieces juicy and relatable while not wasting their time. Executives were notoriously busy, she wanted to respect that.  
  
With Hux, she succeeded. Ben was a different animal altogether. Whatever information she’d gleaned on him, came from Hux who seemed to know him on a more personal level than she’d expected of a COO.  
  
“It was like pulling teeth trying to get him to answer questions. Get this - I asked about his hobbies. You know what his answer was?”  
  
Rose shakes her head expectantly.  
  
“ _‘Why does it fucking matter?_ ’ That was his answer. What a fucking dolt! Because we’re trying to make you look human, you imbecile. Humans have hobbies! And what kind of unprofessional twit swears on a conference call anyway?”  
  
“You’re kind of the queen of expletives,” Rose retorts with a tinge of humour in her voice, “besides he’s not so bad once you get to know him. Trust me. I’ve interviewed him before.”  
  
Rey lets out an exasperated huff. Rose was coming to her house for a glass of wine and to help her get ready for the date. She’s always been a simple person, so excesses like makeup and heels had always been unnecessary to her. Like jewelry. What’s the point of wearing something that can snag or fall off? Plus they were uncomfortable and expensive. Give her comfort, give her utility, and give her _versatility_. Her preferences also meant she was woefully ill prepared for any date-like situations.  
  
“So … did he have any hobbies in the end?”  
  
“Ha!” Rey snorts at the question, “he did .. his answer, after being chastised by his COO, was ‘ _well, I like to read_ ’.”  
  
“The COO was on the call?” Rose asked beaming with a big shit-eating grin.  
  
The train screeched to a halt and they started moving with the crowds onto the platform.  
  
As they picked their way out of the station and toward her apartment huddled under Rey’s umbrella, she insisted on switching the subject on account of not wanting to go on a date in a piss-poor mood. Rose agreed whole heartedly, having already had to listen to a half hour’s worth of colourful illustrations on how many ways Benjamin Solo could go fuck himself.  
  
After a bottle of wine between the two of them and a few giggly fits fueled by Rose’s sexual innuendos, Rey emerged from her bathroom wearing a sleeveless white sheath dress, a soft beige shawl and simple beige flats. The outfit was all Rose, the shoes were an argument Rey can scratch onto her win tab. Rose had insisted on the _one_ pair of heels she owned but Rey argued against pumps citing dirt-berg debris as her main concern.   
  
Her hair, they styled into soft waves, a miraculous feat considering the sub-par flat iron Rey bought years ago and _only_ hair styling tool in her arsenal. Another win: she got Rose to concede makeup. Oh and the rain had stopped, if that could count as a win.  
  
The girls separate outside her apartment, Rose wishing her luck while waggling her eyebrows suggestively, giving the driver the address of the restaurant.  
  
When Rey arrives at Raddus shivering (because _a fucking shawl_ in early spring is a terrible idea for a southerner), when she takes in the modest restaurant serving American fare, when she sits down to order a crappy glass of wine, when Snap _finally_ shows up 30 minutes late wearing a checkered flannel shirt and dirty jeans, she realizes 2 things: she’s overdressed and underwhelmed.   
  
Snap flashes her a brilliant smile wiggling in his seat to get comfortable.   
  
“Sorry I ran so late. I have a customer whose car is the bane of my existence. You ever seen a Silencer?”  
  
Rey used to spend plenty of time fixing up broken things and diving through abandoned cars at her foster father’s junk yard in Jakku. Very early on, cars became a mild passion for her. Lumbering metal beasts abandoned when they just needed the right parts to be made whole again. She related to them in a way - discarded and broken but lots of life left to give. Able to thrive if given a little love and devotion.  
  
The TIE Silencer was in prototype so whichever rich bastard Snap’s client was, clearly had connections. It was the first electric car to go from 0-60 in less than 12 seconds _and_ it boasted an impressive battery range. While most electric cars on the market still puttered along and gave drivers a max range of about 125 miles, the Silencer more than doubled that range, effectively putting it in league with gas powered vehicles.   
  
It was a market disruptor and a vision. All sleek lines and silent maneuvering. She’d seen one driven into a car show once. You couldn’t hear shit outside of the tires squeaking against the polished epoxy floors. They’re also going to be expensive _as_ _fuck_ when they do finally get released to the general public.  
  
“They’re beautiful,” her eyes light up in response.  
  
Snap starts to pick at the complimentary nachos he’d ordered messily, a sour cream dollop resting on his chin. He seemed unperturbed by it, clearly he has exceptional table manners.  
  
“They are. And _fidgety_!” he relates as he shovels 4 stacked nachos in his mouth, crumbs falling over his shirt and all.  
  
“The problem with them is the world’s not ready for that kind of electric. And it looks like neither is TIE because this one crapped out yesterday morning on the owner,” he likes to talk with his mouth full she notices, “I have been running diagnostics on it since, but can’t figure it out. The best guess we have is it might be the transmission.”  
  
“It won’t start?”  
  
“No. Lights don’t come on, the controller app keeps giving ‘unknown error’.”  
  
The waitress clears the empty nacho plate, which Snap polished off himself, to bring their shared fajita entree, enough to feed a family of 6. While she does this, Snap seems eager to get started so he rolls up his sleeves. He does this not like he’s on a date, rather like he’s come home ravenous for his wife’s cooking.  
  
Rey notices the distinct mark on his forearm. It’s almost completely black, circular, with an eight pointed star in the middle. _Aaaaand there’s that_.  
  
“Do the cabin lights come on when you use the manual key?”  
  
“Uh, no.”  
  
“Not even a flicker?”  
  
“Nope. Like dead weight on wheels.”  
  
“Have you checked the hyperdrive? Cars like that don’t work like gas ones. They don’t depend on fluids for lubrication for power. It sounds to me like the hyperdrive is either loose, probably knocked about from all the potholes, or it’s possibly fried. They can overheat when trying to neutralize cabin temperature in cold weather. Either way, the issue sounds less to do with transmission and more to do with a broken electrical circuit.”  
  
Snap is dressing his fajita listening to her intently. He nods then grins at her.  
  
“What do you do again? Rose didn’t say.”  
  
Rey lets out a huffed laugh.   
  
“I’m a copywriter.”  
  
“Could have fooled me. You sound like an engineer.”  
  
“Just a car enthusiast I suppose,” she smiles kindly at him, taking a sip of her crappy wine.  
  
The rest of the evening went off just fine. She knew the moment she sat in the restaurant this wasn’t going to work out. Rey assumed her mate would have more eclectic culinary tastes than Raddus. Though until he showed up, it hadn’t been about finding her mate. Or had it? Her nose reminds her of delicious cocoa and tobacco leaf.   
  
What really sealed the deal wasn’t Snap’s poor table manners (though Rey could appreciate a man who loved food as much as she), it was his mark. That static shock on the train really did a number on her. Whether she wants to admit it or not, that episode yesterday now has her thinking about her soulmate more than ever. This is wrong. This date is just wrong. _What if that was him and I’m wasting mine and poor Snap’s time?  
  
_ He insisted on walking her home, which she accepted graciously. What she didn’t accept was Snap becoming increasingly touchy as they walked in the bitter cold. She was a certified block of ice by the time they arrived in her neighborhood. Despite clinging the wrap around herself like a lifeline the cold had seeped into her very bones and she was eager to just get home. That’s when he had the audacity to try leaning in for a kiss.  
  
“What are you doing?” she pulled back surprised.  
  
“I was hoping we could get to know eachother better,” he breathed, trying to lean in again.  
  
Sure Rey had made polite conversation during dinner but at no point did she feel she was anything but respectfully distant. His bold behaviour ruffled her feathers and spiked her frustration. No, wait, it was the fact that she was colder than a freezer dried bag of peas.  
  
“I’m sorry?”  
  
“Well I figured, you know, we hit it off … maybe we could hit it off upstairs?”  
  
She blinks at him stunned at his brashness. The last of her civility flying out the window.  
  
“What _on earth_ gave you that impression?”  
  
“Well, we have great chemistry, great conversation, you’re unmarked. I figured you’d want a romp with the ol’ Wexter,” he looks down to his crotch, giving it an exaggerated pump.  
  
 _Unmarked?  
  
_ All inhibitions thrown to the wind, Rey’s hand flies up to connect with his cheek, an audible smack fills the air.  
  
“First of all, you _assume_ I’m unmarked. Secondly, even if I wasn’t, which I’m not confirming or denying…” she fixes a pointed look at him as she shifts to open the door, “what makes you think an unmarked woman is only looking for a fucking shag? Like they’re not allowed to find some iota of happiness because they weren’t _blessed_ with some destiny tag!”  
  
He stared at her in disbelief. Like she’d personally insulted completely normal behaviour, like she’d just recited the base equation of quantum physics and he had the audacity to not understand it.  
  
“No, don’t answer that. Check that hyperdrive. I wish you luck with your … business,” she shakes her head walking through the door, then looks back baring her teeth in a deep scowl because she can’t help the bristly bitch that’s been unleashed.  
  
She doesn’t look back after that. What a colossal waste of time, culminating in what might officially be the most horrifying ending she’s experienced. She should have stayed home and read with Maz.  
  
As Rey walks through her front door, regret sets in yet again. The scent of cocoa and tobacco leaf with a hint of ginger spiking in her memory. Her soulmate was out there and she wasted her time with this bloody wanker.  
  
 _Jesus Rey enough with that! It was nothing._

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies to poor Snap Wexley. He's a swell guy I'm sure. Just needed to raise her hackles a bit (insert sardonic laughter). Till next time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Ben ... I mean Mr. Solo, is proving a difficult subject,” she delivered clinically._
> 
> _“I see. What about him is … difficult?”_
> 
> _Why, oh why, was the General so good at flaying your problems! She should have been a psychiatrist. The woman could probably get serial killers to confess with that sideway glance of hers._
> 
> _“Uh, he’s a little … uncooperative?”_
> 
> _The General rolls her wrist signalling Rey to continue. Of course that wasn’t enough of an explanation. Fuck it, hang the laundry out to dry._
> 
> _“Well, for example most questions I’ve submitted have been approved by the COO. So they’ve been vetted and proved agreeable. Yet he refuses to answer them with anything more than terse, one word answers. What answers he does give are poor quality and there’s very little on him online, so consolidating the interview with research is proving futile. It’s impossible to spin shit into gold, if you don’t mind my saying, and … he’s barely giving me shit.”_

The remainder of the week goes off without a hitch. The weather continues to be absolute garbage though the winds seem to shift. A warm current manifests, taking the edge off winter’s tail end.   
  
To keep tightly to her self-imposed deadlines, Rey’d started coming in an hour early every day, using the extra time to map out the pieces and clean up her interview notes. She’d started writing the articles in tandem with the interviews to give herself plenty of time to proof. All things considered, she was well on track to making first draft by early next week.  
  
Rey has also had exactly one call a day with Ben, every day for the entirety of the week. All supervised by Hux and kept to 15 minutes. All leaving her the exact same level of frustrated.   
  
The 15 minute calls were Hux’s idea.  
  
“Ben’s a busy guy. He’s got a lot on his plate right now and can be prickly when the pressure’s high. It’s best we tackle a few questions at a time.”  
  
That’s what he’d said. And it worked, but just barely. And only if she managed to steer clear of sensitive topics (which turns out was literally every topic), one of Hux’s stipulations. Except that was like trying to cross a minefield without a metal detector. Hux had asked for a list of questions so he could pre-approve them, to avoid unnecessary tension. And while that helped her navigate her conversations with Ben, it didn’t guarantee compliance in the least.  
  
“What are you passionate about, Ben?” She’d asked earlier today.   
  
“Privacy,” short, snippy, a warning.  _ Don’t pry.  
  
_ No matter how hard she tried to be chipper, no matter how gently she turned a phrase, his answers were always combative. He didn’t seem to  _ want _ to answer questions nor make himself personable. It was infuriating. It brought her blood to a boil and she was pretty sure he’d be personally responsible for the impending aneurysm she was sure to suffer. And yet, somehow, she kind of looked forward to their antagonistic exchanges because he … made her feel alive, it made her feel …  _ something _ .   
  
Her other interviews with the executives went swimmingly. She’d spoken to each and gotten great content to work with. Hux is a homely man who would do anything for his best friend and prefers to spend time with his mate, who, in turn, prefers to spend a lot of time with her friends. That made him social by extension, though he admits he’s more prone to being anti-social. Enric is a little stiff initially but warms up quickly. He’s a man with a penchant for numbers and  _ really _ bad dad jokes. Dopheld is a classic marketer talking her ear off about ROI and his grand plans for global domination. His passion is endearing, really, like a child asked to talk about their favourite toy. She can all but imagine his bright eyes glistening with excitement. The only enigma in the group was said Ben Solo.  
  
Rey had even chanced a discussion with the COO on the side pieces. Hux gave her some really great info on the green initiatives they’ve implemented around their building. All Ben’s ideas apparently, though she can’t consolidate biodegradable utensils and plates with  _ that _ guy. All in all, she’d all but finished the articles attached to the project with the exception of the piece on Lucifer himself.  
  
Now she’s on her way to The Resistance to meet Rose for some drinks before she goes home for self-care Friday. Since her shitty date with Snap, she’s been too busy to catch up with her friend so they’d solidified these plans over Google Hangouts earlier that morning.  
  
She’s also in a  _ foul _ mood. Not because of Ben, though he’s certainly at the root of it. Today it was the General.  
  
The General had pulled Rey into her office for a quick debriefing on the project at 4:00 PM. 4:00 PM ...  _ on a Friday _ . Rey kept her composure in front of the woman even though she was already mentally checked out. The General was small in stature, motherly even at first glance. If you didn’t know her that is. If you were lucky enough to work with her you’d know she was ruthless, going for the kill if she so much as sniffed blood.  
  
“How’s the First Order project going dear?”  
  
“G-great! I’ve completed most interviews and written up the majority of the pieces,” she swallows thickly, “I should be ready to submit the first drafts to First Order for review early next week.”  
  
It was professional enough as answers go, though her face must have told a different story because the General honed in on her.  
  
“What’s holding the interviews from being completed?”  
  
There it was, the proverbial jugular - the General had smelled blood. Rey considered her options. She could lie and say some executives were harder to peg down than others. But that would mean she hadn’t impressed the importance of the project on them. She’d look lazy. Then again, if she took the honest route, she’d be chastising the President of their biggest client.  _ Fuck.  
  
_ “Umm … permission to speak freely?” Rey fumbled with her words looking down at her hands petulantly.  
  
The General simply nodded in assent.  
  
“Well, I’m having a tough time with … you see it’s just that … it’s  _ difficult _ to gather …”  
  
“Spit it out Rey,” the General fixed her with a stare.  
  
Rey furrowed her brows letting out a shaky sigh while trying to gain her composure. She braced herself, might as well be brutally honest.   
  
“Ben ... I mean Mr. Solo, is proving a difficult subject,” she delivered clinically.  
  
“I see. What about him is …  _ difficult _ ?”  
  
Why,  _ oh why _ , was the General so good at flaying your problems! She should have been a psychiatrist. The woman could probably get serial killers to confess with that sideway glance of hers.  
  
“Uh, he’s a little … uncooperative?”  
  
The General rolls her wrist signalling Rey to continue. Of course that wasn’t enough of an explanation. Fuck it, hang the laundry out to dry.  
  
“Well, for example most questions I’ve submitted have been approved by the COO. So they’ve been vetted and proved agreeable. Yet he refuses to answer them with anything more than terse, one word answers. What answers he does give are poor quality and there’s very little on him online, so consolidating the interview with research is proving futile. It’s impossible to spin shit into gold, if you don’t mind my saying, and … he’s barely giving me shit.”  
  
There. It was out in the open.  
  
The two women stared at each other, Rey’d felt her defences rising, ready to rebut any chastising because that insufferable man was the reason she couldn’t do her job. She’d literally tried everything shy of barging into the First Order building and interrogating him in person. Wait, was that what the General expected of her? Shit why hadn’t she just done  _ that _ ! Oh God she was getting fired. She was  _ so canned _ she could taste the curb.  
  
But instead of delivering the line Rey was preparing to hear, the General burst into hearty laughter. Laughter? Was this  _ funny _ ?  
  
“Alright Rey. Let me talk to him and see what I can do. Thank you for the update and have a wonderful weekend dear.”  
  
With that she dismissed her to go about her merry way. But before she shut the door to the General’s office, she heard her say “Benny’s always been rough around the edges. He means well. I’ll talk to him.”  
  
_ Benny _ ? What the fuck?  
  
Now her evening’s tinged with irritation because everyone seemed to be in on some joke about this Solo character. Hux called him prickly but seems to take kindly to him, she even has a sneaking suspicion Ben is his best friend. Rose thought he wasn’t so bad when you got to know him. The General thinks he’s rough around the edges but means well,  _ Benny _ . Did she land in some alternate dimension where the  _ same guy, _ who talks to her like she’s personally responsible for the Great Depression, the sinking of the Titanic  _ and _ the Bubonic Plague, is actually  _ liked _ by people she knows?   
  
Even Poe thinks he’s a great guy based on the few conversations they’d had about him. It’s like the whole world had gone bat-shit crazy and she’s the only one immune.  
  
Rose waves at her from the bar. Her exasperation rolls off her at the sight of her friend. She plods her way to the bar, dropping her coat and bag on the stool with a huff. Her friend, bless her horny little soul, pushes a vodka soda (two limes) at her. Good, she needs a stiff one - drink that is.  
  
“If this mood,” Rose waves her arm up and down at her, “is about Ben Solo, I  _ don’t _ want to talk about it. But I did fish out my old notes from when I interviewed him and am willing to pass them to you for reference.”  
  
“Ditto. And thank you.”  
  
“But I  _ do... _ want to  _ finally _ talk about that date. Snap was very tight lipped about the whole thing but I’m assuming it didn’t go so well based on the face you’re making.”  
  
She’s making a face. Oh she’s making  _ one hell _ of a face. A grimace so deep she’s giving the mariana trench a run for its money.   
  
After a fortifying gulp of her drink, Rey starts retelling the story of arriving at Raddus, feeling overdressed, cursing the cold, and Snap’s late arrival.  
  
“Thirty minutes Rose, he showed up thirty minutes late for a date. Who does that?”  
  
“Strange. He’s usually so punctual with our cars.”  
  
“Well his excuse was some bullshit about a customer’s fancy prototype Silencer.”  
  
Rose looked thoughtful, “... so that’s why he wouldn’t take Armie’s car in for that tire change.”  
  
“Well that’s not even the worst of it. We had polite conversation and a decent meal. He was even gentleman enough to walk me home but that,” another deep pull of her drink “was where shit really hit the fan.”  
  
Rose wiggles closer, nestling in like a child about to get to the best part of the story.  
  
“He tried to kiss me, then when I pushed away he insinuated that we could, you know, go upstairs to fuck.”  
  
“And you didn’t want that?”  
  
“There was no chemistry there, Rose. Sexual or otherwise. Plus he was a bloody prick about it.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“Well, he insisted that since I’m unmarked I was just down for a romp with,” she snorts indignantly, “the ol’ Wexter.”  
  
Rose breaks into a peal of laughter and Rey can’t help but join in. Retelling the story washes away the awkwardness and really lets the absurdity of it all really shine.   
  
“Oh my  **God** Rey, what did you do?”  
  
“Well I chastised the fuck out of him. First of all, not all unmarked women just want a quick shag. They deserve happiness too, you know? Even if they weren’t blessed with an emotional scavenger hunt.”  
  
Rey finishes her drink and signals the bartender for another. Fuck it. Vodka is alcohol and alcohol is a solution, at least that’s what her highschool chemistry teacher would say jokingly. If the first drink has managed to ease the shitstorm of the past week, the second will definitely help her find some peace tonight.  
  
“Besides, he just assumed I don’t have a soulmate mark. That’s just plain ignorant.”  
  
The bartender pushes the fresh drink across the polished bar surface, condensation dripping welcomingly down the lowball glass. Rey picks up the drink and stabs the lime slices to release their tangy flavour, eyeing her friend who’s touching her neck sheepishly.  
  
“Rose, you alright?”  
  
“Yeah, I just … well you  _ don’t _ have a soulmate mark, do you?” Her eyes are as big as saucers when they look up to meet Rey’s.  
  
_ Well this is new.  
  
_ “Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there. I do, in fact, have one. Didn’t I tell you?”  
  
Rose shakes her head vehemently.   
  
“Mine is on my neck and Armie’s is on his forearm. Most people’s are there, so I just assumed you didn’t. You do have one though, don’t you? Oh God. I’m such an asshole. I’m so sorry Rey.”  
  
The two just stare at each other, speechless. How could this topic have completely missed their girls night banter? Rose looks visibly uncomfortable, warring with the embarrassment of making such bold assumptions.  
  
“Well, where is it? Let me see it!”  
  
“Rose! I can’t just show you. We’re in a crowded bar!”  
  
“Ohhh it’s in a private place huh?”   
  
Rey just nods and pats her lower back.  
  
“Wow that’s different. Rey, I had no idea!”  
  
“It’s alright. How could you know? You’re right, most people’s are in the same two places. I’m just … broken.”  
  
“70.4% of soulmate marks are on the forearm, 29.4% on the neck. Only 0.2% are categorized as  _ other _ . Statistically speaking… and the data on  _ other placements _ is practically nonexistent,” Rose sighed reciting research she’s clearly done for God knows what reason.  
  
They sipped their drinks quietly while the crowd around them grew and chatted away.   
  
“You’re not broken, Rey. You’re special,” Rose starts again quietly after what looked like deep contemplation, “he’s one lucky guy to have you.”  
  
At that Rey lets out a sarcastic chortle.  
  
“And you know what?” Rose continues, ignoring her self-deprecating sounds, “ he’s probably just as special as you are. Because a placement like that is unique in this world and deserves a mate just as unique.”  
  
The words warm Rey’s heart and her lips twitch into a small smile. How did this little ball of energy make her feel so fuzzy about her cursed mark? How did she make it sound like a blessing instead of a curse? In a few words she managed to convert her disappointment to making her feel like she was something special, to be cherished. Like she’d won the fucking lottery.  
  
“Thank you Rose. That means a lot.”  
  
“You know I love you. And Snap was an dick for assuming. In fact, so was I. But you need to show me your mark because now I get to start hunting  _ with _ you.”  
  
The grin Rose flashes her is nothing short of beatific.   
  
“Babe, seriously. Can I see it?”  
  
Rey finishes her drink and looks about. Way too many people to be flashing her bare midriff around.   
  
“Alright, finish that,” she points at Rose’s practically empty whiskey sour, “and we’ll head to the loo. I’ll show you in there. Besides, I've got to get going. The joys of being a fur mama.”  
  
Rose is practically vibrating with excitement. She gulps the remainder of her drink without hesitation and the girls hurriedly settle their bill while collecting their belongings. Luckily, it’s still early so they find themselves blessedly alone in the bathroom.   
  
Rey untucks her silky teal blouse out of her grey pencil skirt with shaky hands. She hasn’t shown anyone this mark since Plutt had ridiculed her over it. Since then, she’d actually avoided showing it, always covering her midriff when running, wearing one-piece bathing suits when swimming, steering clear of midriff baring clothes in general. Lifting the back of the blouse to the hem of her bra, she uses her other hand to lower the band of her skirt, exposing her soulmate mark.  
  
Rose sucks in an audible breath then reaches out to trace the winged sword.  
  
“It’s beautiful Rey!”  
  
“Uh, thank you? I always thought it means you have to fight to soar. You see the wings around the sword? And the star for a hilt? Like it’s a spiritual war. That was always my interpretation.”  
  
“Like a phoenix rising,” Rose adds, wonderment in her tone.  
  
She'd never thought of it that way, but it was a fitting metaphor. After all, she did rise from the ashes of the Knights of Ren into her current life. She rose out of the garbage dump of Jakku. Out of whatever crappy foster care she received to make a half decent life for herself. Yes, phoenix is ... fitting actually.  
  
Rose’s phone rings interrupting their quiet moment.  
  
“You should take that. I’ve gotta head home to Maz anyway. I’ll text you later,” Rey smiles pointing to Rose’s purse.  
  
She gives Rose a nod smiling as she readjusts her clothes and pulls on her jacket. While her friend fishes for her phone, Rey makes her way out of the bathroom and out the doors of The Resistance towards the metro station.  
  
Today’s been an emotional rollercoaster for her and it irks her to no avail. She’s gone from angry to happy, irate to nervous, disappointed to hopeful. Shit she went from thinking she was getting canned to feeling her future stretch out infinitely at her feet. The vodka has loosened her limbs and blanketed her brain in a calm warmth. She’d like to enhance that feeling with a bath and her book.   
  
As she rounds the corner to the stairs punching in her favourite Chinese food order into the First Order app, she thinks she can almost smell cocoa, tobacco leaf and ginger. Her brain  _ must  _ have whiplash. Time for some self-care. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK who needs to know this, but I've got the first 14 chapters of this fic stockpiled. Do with that what you will.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“For fucks sake Ma, not you too!”_
> 
> _“So I’m not the only one talking to you about this.”_
> 
> _He squeezes a heavy breath through pursed lips in response, but doesn’t miss that she lets the expletive slide._
> 
> _“Here’s what’s going to happen Ben. On Monday you’ll have another call with Rey. One that you will organize. You’ll answer her questions. You’ll answer them well, and you’ll give her answers that are more than one syllable. If she asks for clarification, you will expand. No questions asked and none of your father’s snark. If I hear from her that you were less than pleasant or unforthcoming by end of day, I will personally show up at your office and give you the spanking I should have given you as a child.”_

Ben’s Friday is absolutely, unequivocally, fucking fantastic. Yeah right!  
  
He started off his Friday with a conference call with his VCs. It goes well enough as these calls go, though he’s blowing a minor gasket over the fact that First Order still has them.   
  
When he first started the company he needed the capital and was too proud to take any handouts from his family, trust funds be damned. Whatever money he walked away with from the Knights of Ren he’d cleaned and used to kickstart his idea, but he needed more to scale.  
  
So he’d recruited Hux with his MBA to scope out potential partners and oversee operations. The first round had gone surprisingly well and the VCs expertise came in handy.   
  
Under their guidance he’d grown exponentially. But they were skittish investors, always looking to turn a quick buck so they’d been paid out their return at 20% within the first year and First Order went into a second round. That’s how they’d found themselves with a much more substantial investment, one that took them public.   
  
That investment came from John Snoke and Associates. The investment was also the bane of his existence because Snoke made the most ridiculous requests, like analytic reports on their returns to be produced at the drop of a hat.   
  
After the conference call, he’d had a call with the voice of what he’s now sure is an angel - Rey Niima. He’s also convinced she hates his guts. Why wouldn’t she, he’s been a grade A dick to her since their first call. Thank God for small mercies like Hux and his professionalism. He’s been able to mitigate their barbed exchanges but he’s pretty sure he won’t ever get to meet her. Or check her mark. Or find out _if_ she even has one.  
  
And to add insult to injury, the cherry on his proverbial shit-filled sundae, he hasn’t been able to get a whiff of his elusive soulmate on the subway all week. He’s starting to think, in no uncertain terms, that maybe he’d imagined the whole thing. Maybe it was really good perfume and static electricity.  
  
Hux meets him at the elevators at 6:00 PM ready to go to The Resistance for a drink. He’d agreed to it begrudgingly and mostly because they needed to talk about their VC situation. He’d also had half a mind to discuss the entirety of their situation on the way there and avoid the bar altogether in lieu of a night in with Chewie.  
  
His whole life, Ben had lived in someone else’s shadow under the guise of being the master of his own destiny. First his parents who told him he was autonomous but tried to force him into their ideal mold. Then under _The Emperor_ , some faceless guy who funded the Knights of Ren though Kylo was the head. Now he’s the President of First Order and still has to take shit from some rich old fuck. He just wants to be _free_ of these masters. Carve his own slot in life with no one telling him what to do and how to do it.  
  
“I’ve got Pryde looking over the financials to see if we can buy Snoke and Associates out,” Hux informs him as the elevator doors seal shut.   
  
“Good. I’d like us to stand on our own two feet before we roll out global expansion.”  
  
“Your mother’s plan will work. It’ll drive up our stock prices, but we’ll need to buy back our shares from the VCs before they take a larger chunk out of our finances. Preferably before we expand. The percentage we agreed to was ridiculous in hindsight and could cripple operations if they pull funding mid roll-out.”  
  
Hux is right. Of course he’s fucking right. They’ve been loafting on buying the VCs out because they got comfortable, and because Ben appreciated Snoke’s prudent advice on occasion. Though those occasions have been few and far between since their initial investment. Snoke had been more interested in pouring over revenue than aiding in growth.  
  
He can feel his hackles rising. This morning’s conference call was enough Snoke talk for one day, for an entire month actually. He’d really appreciate letting sleeping dogs lie until there was some concrete way to close that chapter.  
  
Ben pinches the bridge of his nose hunching against the back of the elevator. He’s drained. Utterly fucking drained.  
  
“Let’s deal with it when Pryde reports back on finances. I’ve had a shit day and I’d like to try to enjoy the evening.”  
  
“I suppose this isn’t a great time to ask you why the hell you’re giving Rey a hard time?”  
  
He’s going to have an aneurysm. He’s pretty fucking sure of that. _Why the hell...  
  
_ “She’s working really hard on these pieces you know? Pryde and Mitaka debriefed me on their interviews. Called her a gem of an interviewer. Mitaka even considered poaching her for in-house marketing before I explained he’d have Leia’s fury to contend with. He said she felt like talking to an old friend. Hell, even I enjoyed conversing with her and I don’t think it’s just the accent.”  
  
Hux fixes him with a sideways glance, his hands tightly clasped behind his back in his signature military stance. He’s unsure of what to make of Ben’s frozen form, eyes still closed, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s planning on snapping it clean off.  
  
“I just don’t understand why you’re giving her such a hard time, that’s all,” he finally admits. A futile attempt at diffusing Ben’s irritation.  
  
The elevator doors swing open and they begin their pilgrimage to the bar in silence. Ben’s phone buzzes after a few minutes of silent walking and he looks down to find a text from his mechanic. The car’s been fixed. It was the hyperdrive which had been knocked loose. Probably from one of the ungodly potholes this city is riddled with during the winter. Why did it take him a whole fucking week to figure _that_ out?  
  
Ben huffs out his frustration shoving his hands and phone into his pant pockets, knowing full well he needs to explain his behaviour to his friend. Yes, he’s been a piece of shit to Rey. Fuck he doesn’t even really understand his reasons. In fact, it comes out completely naturally even if he doesn’t want it to.  
  
“You don’t understand Hux. I’m not a good guy. I’ve done and witnessed some fucked up things. An interview that’s meant to paint me in a good light is …” he runs his hand through his hair in consideration, “it feels like a lie. Besides, what can people _possibly_ like about me?”  
  
Hux laughs at that. Leaning in for an ounce of privacy, “listen, _Kylo_ , that was a long time ago and it’s been cleaned up. Stop letting it rule your life.”  
  
They walk some more in silence.  
  
“You’re a good man Ben. You care about the world, your employees adore you. You’re a fair and equal opportunity employer. You’ve given people on the fringes the opportunity to find meaningful work delivering for us. You donate, albeit anonymously, to rehabilitation programs for troubled youth offenders. Our annual toy drive provides better gifts to orphans than most kids _with_ families get. Need I go on?”  
  
Ben sighs. He _just sighs_ from the depths of his soul. Hux makes it seem so easy, painting him in a good light. Like he isn’t a lost cause. Like he isn’t missing half his soul. Like that missing half soul isn’t obviously avoiding him like the plague.  
  
“Why can’t you just tell her all of that and leave me out of it? It’d be best for all parties involved…”  
  
His phone buzzes again. This time it’s a call. Probably Snap, ready to smack him with his bill. Some insane amount that he’ll justify in labour or parts cost. It’d probably be cheaper to take it into an actual TIE dealership but then he’d forfeit the convenience of house calls.  
  
The universe is _most definitely_ plotting against him today. It’s his mom. _Fuck_ . He raises a finger to Hux, pausing their conversation with a single gesture.  
  
“Yeah, Ma.”  
  
“Son, do you have a minute?”  
  
“Are you going to lecture me about my soulmate?”  
  
“I’ll lecture you on that any day of the week. But no, this is work related so relax.”  
  
“Pfft. Yeah right.”  
  
“Benny. What is your problem with Rey?”  
  
He suppresses an eye roll and looks at Hux whose grin tells him the ginger prick knows exactly what the call is about. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear the two were in cahoots with one another and were planning to put him 6 feet under prematurely. _Congratu-fucking-lations assholes, you’re well on your way_ .  
  
“For fucks sake Ma, not you too!”  
  
“So I’m not the only one talking to you about this.”  
  
He squeezes a heavy breath through pursed lips in response, but doesn’t miss that she lets the expletive slide.  
  
“Here’s what’s going to happen Ben. On Monday you’ll have another call with Rey. One that _you_ will organize. You’ll answer her questions. You’ll answer them well, and you’ll give her answers that are more than one syllable. If she asks for clarification, you will expand. No questions asked and _none_ of your father’s snark. If I hear from her that you were less than pleasant or unforthcoming by end of day, I will personally show up at your office and give you the spanking I should have given you as a child.”  
  
“Are you done chastising me?”  
  
“Are you done being a goon?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Fine.”  
  
“Great. Have a good weekend Ben. And tell Armitage I say hello.”  
  
 _What the fuck?  
  
_ They round the corner to The Resistance and as they pass the subway entrance, he scents cinnamon buns, vanilla and feminine musk. His day just turned right the fuck around!  
  
He’s about to turn on his heels to follow her. He’s about to follow his heart and his nose. Except Hux grabs his jacket sleeve tugging him towards the bar, halting him with the worst possible words that could come out of his obnoxious puckered asshole of a mouth.  
  
“Rose is meeting us for drinks by the way. She’s got something she wants to ask you.”  
  
 _FUCK_!

  
  


[x]

  
  


It turns out that drinks with Rose and Hux isn’t so bad, if you ignore the fact that they stopped him from chasing down his destiny. After he _almost_ went ballistic in an attempt to follow her.   
  
When the initial awkwardness of trying to explain his behaviour died down, it turned out OK. Of course he didn’t tell them anything about his soulmate. That would have been disastrous. They clearly enjoy playing matchmaker and God knows he can’t handle any more of their meddling.  
  
Ben gets to witness the soulmates interact and it’s sickeningly endearing. He wants that. Fuck he wants that with his own soulmate. Why the fuck can’t he have that? Why the fuck didn’t he follow her scent? Why the fuck is he swearing so much in his head? Fuck fuck _fuck_ .  
  
Hux and Rose have imprinted on one another. Rose’s calm and cheerful spirit has rubbed off on Hux, and his uptight, factual personality has rendered her less aloof than Ben remembers her being. They complimented each other in ways he’d never thought would work for either, yet here they are, two perfect parts of a whole.  
  
Rose offers him a big smile over drinks.  
  
“So, Ben. I’ve got a little birdie I work with who may or may not have a thing for you. She’d love to go on a date with you so I asked Hux here if you’d be down.”  
  
He stares at her dumbfounded. Glancing at Hux, he notices the same shit-eating grin. These fuckers planned this. Like he’s some pet project to set up time and time again. Didn’t these two nuts-in-a-sac already send him on a speed dating disaster? Did they forget that already? Were they planning on pulling this shit weekly? He’s _got_ to get new friends.  
  
“She works at Rebel Media Group. Nice girl. Thinks your work is prolific.”  
  
“Okay…”  
  
His answer is dawdled, like he’s expecting the butt of the joke to hit at any moment. But it doesn’t come. Instead he gets her name as Rose excuses herself to the bathroom.  
  
“Her name is Kaydel. She’s a PA with us.”  
  
“She’s unmarked,” Hux adds when Rose is out of earshot, like it’s some kind of redeeming quality, “could be helpful in your mood.”  
  
His mood?   
  
“My _mood_ ?”  
  
“Yeah, you know. Uptight. Maybe she can help you unwind.”  
  
“What the fuck? That’s rich coming from you.”  
  
“Oh come _on_ Ben! You’ve been wound tighter than a fucking ball of yarn. Let a kitten play with you … you know?”  
  
“First of all, your analogies are horrible. Please refrain from making them in the future.”  
  
His hackles are rising again. Of course they’re rising again. How can they not with this blatant attempt at pimping him out under the guise of good friendship.  
  
“Secondly, if I needed to _blow off some steam_ ,” he enunciates with air quotes, “I can deal with it myself.”  
  
Hux stares at him silently, clearly not understanding. Ben releases a long grown. Maybe Hux’s words hit home just a touch.   
  
“Besides, I’ve got two perfectly good hands,” he finally concedes.  
  
“That’s clearly not been working.”  
  
Why is he subjecting himself to this shit? It’s none of his business if and when he decides to jerk off to release pressure. His masturbatory habits are none of Hux’s concern. He should fire him for this. No, he should have fired him for the speed dating thing.   
  
Instead of arguing he collects his jacket and makes to leave their booth.  
  
“I’m leaving.”  
  
“Ben!”  
  
“No, Armitage. You don’t get to throw pussy at me like it’s some kind of miracle cure. I have a soulmate,” he taps his forearm roughly, “and my time is running out to find her. I’m not wasting my time on meaningless sex.”   
  
He grinds his words out while roughly pushing his arms into his coat sleeves. Vaguely, he’s aware he’s abusing his poor jacket but can’t be bothered to give a single fuck right now. He needs to let the aggression out on something inanimate that won’t land him with a misdemeanour.  
  
“If this is some kind of sick joke, add it to the same tab you’ve got the speed dating debacle under. You know, to laugh about later.”  
  
Hux drops his head into his palms defeatedly.  
  
“Ben, we’ll find her. But you’ll never find her when you’re burning everyone you talk to at the stake. Think about it. Even if you did meet her, what kind of self-deprecating comment would you make, hmm?”  
  
He did have a point. He’d probably irritate her the way he’s already irritated his mother’s angelic copywriter.   
  
But is this really how he’ll find her? Fucking some unmarked woman? He does have a point about the tension, though. He’s been more wound up lately than he’s been in years. Maybe it’s that he’s coming to the end, about to lose his chance at being whole. His window of opportunity is closing so in response he’s channeling his best impression of a dictator.  
  
“Fine. Set it up. But I can’t guarantee I’ll show up or …”  
  
“Say no more. I’ll text you the details.”  
  
“And I’m still going home.”  
  
And home he did go. To read. Drunkenly now. Smelling Chewie’s farts which he’s pretty sure are thanks to that fucking dog walker giving him too many of her gluten-free organic home-made dog treats. Fucking Jannah.  
  
He doesn’t get the text from Hux about the date until the morning. It’s set for that same night. Looks like his friends don’t want to give him the chance to bail.

  
  


[x]

  
  


Ben decides to go on the date. It’s a terrible idea but he doesn’t realize that until it’s too late.  
  
She’s nice enough. Tall, blonde, exactly what Hux would have gone for before he’d met Rose. She also seems really into him and seems to know things he’s not sure he’s really told anyone publicly. Giggling at things he says even though he’s not joking, swatting his bicep suggestively while downing multiple glasses of white wine.   
  
It’s not that it wasn’t nice to be wanted. It was just not coming from the right person and that sickened him. He knows she’s out there, _in this city_ . He’d smelled her, _felt_ her. This, to him, was the equivalent of cheating and it made his stomach roil. It was just after the appetizers arrived and Kaydel had touched him uncomfortably one too many times that he realized this was an astronomical mistake. He needed to get out, guilt weighing heavily in his chest.  
  
He kept the conversation light and courteous but gave no hint of interest, counting the minutes and courses until it was respectable enough to extricate himself.   
  
How could he be so stupid to agree to this? His guilt eats at him like a flesh eating disease for two reasons: he wasn’t using his time wisely, he should be looking for _her_ , doing _this_ with _her_ , and also wasting this nice girl’s time in the process.  
  
 _Ben, you’re a certified idiot_ his inner voice chides him.  
  
When it’s _finally_ polite to leave, he settles the bill leaving the waiter a generous tip and escorts the woman to a cab, keeping reasonable distance. To his dismay, Kaydel tries to rope him into the back of the cab with her, giving him hooded eyes and a borderline lewd lick of the lips. No doubt the results of the wine.  
  
“It was lovely to meet you Miss Connix. Unfortunately our friends seem to have crossed wires about what either of us are looking for. Please let me take care of your fare.”  
  
And when he’s safely deposited her (disappointed pout and all) into the cab and it drives off, he has a flash of the last line he read last night.  
  
“ _To realize one’s destiny is a person’s only obligation_ .”  
  
Yes, Coelho’s right, he’s got an obligation to his destiny and she’s right under his nose. He just needs to play it smart and the stars _will_ align. Tonight has taught him that he has a destiny to fulfill, and no time to waste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Kaydel for being a good sport and being the female Snap to mirror Rey's horrible date. I realize now that I may need to add the 'slow burn' tag to this fic. But, cause I'm feeling generous I'm editing the next chapter to release later today. Godspeed!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“How would you say your family has influenced you, as a person and as a businessman?”_
> 
> _“Did … did Leia put you up to this?”_
> 
> _And Lucifer was back. The same man whose automatic response to any question she posed was to snap. Didn’t he just all but allude to his future family? Why is this one getting him riled up? Everyone loves talking about their family, right?_
> 
> _“N-no. What?”_
> 
> _She hears him take a sharp inhale._
> 
> _“I’m sorry. Family’s a bit touchy for me.”_

Rey is sitting at Carlac, a Japanese sushi joint a few blocks from the office on a cool Tuesday evening waiting for Rose to arrive.   
  
She’s nursing a warm sake and edamame bowl, still in a mild state of shock over the about-face she’s experienced in the last 48 hours.  
  
When she arrived to work Monday morning, she was greeted by an email from the devil himself:

——

From:  b.solo@firstorder.com  
To:  reyniima@rebelmediagroup.com   
Subject: Monday Morning Interview

Good morning Rey,  
  
I hope this email finds you well and you’ve had a good weekend. I understand I’m the only one left on your list of interviews and am holding up the project. For this, I’d like to extend my sincerest apologies and the opportunity to rectify my tardiness.  
  
Therefore I ask you to give me a call this morning at 9:15 AM so we can finish what we started.  
  
B.S.

——   
  


That was more words than she’d ever gotten out of him, email or otherwise. She’d initially blinked a few times at her screen, unable to make heads or tails of it.  
  
Was he extending the olive branch? Or was he just tired of their arguing and wanted to get this over with? Either way she was on track to getting his interview wrapped up so whatever change of heart he’s had, she welcomed it.  
  
A nagging voice reminded her that the General did mention taking care of it.   
  
So she had a one-on-one call with Ben and he’d been honest. Nice even.  
  
“So, Ben, let’s start off lightly. May I ask you, again, what kind of hobbies you have?”  
  
She’d held her breath. It was a simple enough question. Her ice-breaker. She’d used it on plenty of interviews and always managed to latch onto one hobby or another that helped her build the connection and gain trust for a more honest session.  
  
“Like I said last time, I like to read,” the tension on the line seemed thick before he continued, “I also like to run, outside if possible, otherwise I enjoy a regimented gym schedule, and take my dog for walks when I can.”  
  
Yes, a hook. She latched on.  
  
“Aww, what kind of dog do you have?”  
  
“He’s just an old mutt I inherited from one of my dad’s adventures. Looks to be part Wookie though,” he offered pausing, then, “Yourself?”  
  
Was he … being  _ conversational _ ?  
  
“Oh? I have a cat, but I’m impartial to fur baby love. Do you know what they say about cats, Ben?”  
  
Silence.  
  
“Cats were once worshipped as gods and they’ve never forgotten.”  
  
She heard him laughing. It was a good sign but also gave her mild whiplash. This was the same man who skirted conversation with her for the last week. The man who clearly hates her guts. She brushed those thoughts aside and continued.  
  
“Good snugglers, cats. What about reading Ben, what’s your favourite book then?”  
  
She hears a sigh so she switches tactics. Some people don’t like being asked questions or talking about themselves. They’re more listeners. Intuitively Rey knows that because she’s one of those. But occasionally, when you need to ferret the chatty Cathy out of the silent type, sharing a fact about yourself first works wonders. Answer the question yourself and hope they follow suit.  
  
“I’m also an avid reader. My favourite happens to be The Great Gatsby. Easy to read on a weekend and it never fails to take me on an emotional rollercoaster. I feel like I suffer emotional trauma at the hands of Fitzgerald  _ every _ time. Right now though, I’m reading The Alchemist again.”  
  
She hears a hiss as he sucks in an audible breath on the other end of the line. He’s mumbling something to the effect of ‘ _ what are the odds’ _ .  
  
“Yeah that happens to be my favourite book.”  
  
“You’re kidding!”  
  
“No. I’m serious. The story itself isn’t as involved as The Great Gatsby, but I find it never fails to give me guidance. You’ll just be reading it and a line or verse will jump out at you that will utterly change your day. It applies to any situation, any mood, any feeling. It’s gotten me through a lot. It’s like a compass to me.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“Well, whenever I’m feeling down or lost, I’ll open a page randomly. Won’t even look, just close my eyes and let my fingers do the work. Somehow, on that page, there’ll be the answer. Or … at least something that’ll make me feel better.”  
  
It turns out he wasn’t so bad, like Rose, and Hux, and Leia, and Poe, fuck  _ everyone _ had said. From there they flowed into easier conversation. It felt so natural, she felt  _ connected _ to him. To his answers, more specifically. Like they were her own.  
  
“What’s your perfect Friday night?”  
  
“Dinner in, a good book and Chewie.”  
  
Quiet evenings are her absolute favourite.  
  
“Your favourite whole body exercise?”  
  
“Running. There’s nothing like pushing past the wall and hitting that high where you feel like you could go forever.”  
  
She could relate to that. Runner’s high is about the only drug she chases.  
  
“Favourite foods?”  
  
“I like all food. But am partial to more eclectic flavours.”  
  
A sentiment she understands. If she has to sit through another plate of generic but overpriced carbonara at an Italian joint she might as well singe off her taste buds.  
  
“How do you see your work impacting the world in a decade?”  
  
“Now that’s a loaded question,” the prickly Ben answered but then (after another heavy sigh) he continued, “The reason I started First Order is because I saw a need. People want food, restaurants want to provide it. And most importantly, people on the fringes needed easy jobs. So I married the two concepts together in a way that had maximum impact on those needing the extra income.”  
  
For some reason, hearing this made her smile like an idiot.  
  
“In ten years, I expect we’ll be used globally and I hope that we’ll be able to make an impact in developing countries. Where we can give a small food establishment the chance to grow through delivery, and people on the fringes a chance to support themselves. I’d also like to see us pave the way in 100% biodegradable containers. I don’t know if Mitaka told you, but we’re currently sourcing materials to provide our network of restaurants free of charge. That way all orders are branded and completely environmentally responsible. We’re even toying with the idea of offering dual brand placement to restaurants able to afford it for additional revenue.”  
  
She hadn’t expected that. Most companies' answers are ‘ _ to still be around’ _ usually accompanied by a nervous chuckle.  
  
“That’s impressive  _ and _ socially responsible. I commend you for taking a proactive approach. Most companies only see the bottom line - profits.”  
  
He’d let out a nervous laugh at that.  
  
“Profits are nice but I want to build a legacy for myself and my future …”  
  
There was a sadness in his tone so she tried to steer the conversation to something more cheerful. A topic she knew made everyone preen.  
  
“How would you say your family has influenced you, as a person and as a businessman?”  
  
“Did … did Leia put you up to this?”   
  
_And_ Lucifer was back. The same man whose automatic response to any question she posed was to snap. Didn’t he just all but allude to his future family? Why is this one getting him riled up? Everyone loves talking about their family, right?  
  
“N-no. What?”  
  
She hears him take a sharp inhale.  
  
“I’m sorry. Family’s a bit touchy for me.”  
  
“Alright, your mate then?”  
  
She hears him mutter ‘ _ fuck _ ’.  
  
“Okay, how about we skip the personal side of things and just talk about what influences you to be the businessman that you are?”  
  
She’d offered this as her own olive branch.  
  
“No it’s alright. My family and I haven’t seen eye to eye much. My mother… she’s … a tough lady. A real hardass. Was busy working when I was growing up and my father … he was more nurturing but too busy with his own … adventures, so I was raised by nannies. Mostly though, I was …  _ am  _ alone,” he pauses then continues quietly, voice pained and sorrowful, “and I don’t have a mate.”  
  
She doesn’t know how to respond. His clinical dissection of his personal life imparts a palpable taste of loneliness. One she knows very well. His family is distant, he doesn’t have a mate. She can relate. Oh can she relate. Being alone is her constant companion, and apparently his too. Words fail her and the silence between the lines is  _ loud _ .  
  
She doesn’t know what possesses her, what trance his words had put her in, but she found herself whispering: “you’re not alone.”  
  
Imperceptibly, she thinks she can hear him respond: “neither are you.”  
  
Silence followed. Thick and unrelenting. Then he cleared his throat, effectively breaking their trance.  
  
“I … I cling to the vision of the First Order. That’s what makes me who I am. I want to give people a chance. A chance to find new foods they like. A chance for restaurants to prosper and share their passion. A chance to find meaningful employment however small.”  
  
“Well I want to  _ thank you _ . Because of you I found my favourite restaurant  _ and _ dish. In fact, I order religiously,” she tried to lighten the mood. Their time was almost up and she didn’t want to leave him with the heaviness she  _ knew _ he was feeling, they were  _ both _ feeling. Like she’d torn him open with a single question. Flayed him for all to see. She felt responsible for said flaying, desperate to stitch him back up.  
  
“See? That.  _ That’s _ what I strive for.”  
  
She smiled at that. It worked, at least at the surface level. Whatever passed just then, was deeper than she was willing to admit. She’d have to analyze later.  
  
“Uh … Rey? May I ask, what did you find?”  
  
She found a kindred spirit duh! But she doesn’t say that, her brain has  _ neither are you _ playing on repeat.  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“What dish did you discover, Rey?”  
  
“Oh I discovered Shanghai noodles from this amazing place called…”  
  
Poe barged into her cubicle at that exact moment. He asked her into a meeting ASAP apologizing profusely to Ben, which abruptly ended their phone call.   
  
Said meeting had been an utter waste of time but she was able to provide the irate client all the necessary answers which, in turn, bought her the rest of the day to finish, proof, and edit the First Order content. It was perfect and she’d give it a final read through in the morning before sending it.  
  
And send it she does, to Hux, at 9:00 AM sharp. He’d sent her an almost instant confirmation on receipt noting he’d disseminated the articles to the appropriate subjects for further reading. She was free to breathe from this project so she’d spent the entirety of the day checking off housekeeping items on her list and making dinner plans with Rose. She’d invited Armie and Rey was stoked to  _ finally _ meet the man who tamed her wild Rose.  
  
That’s how she finds herself at Carlac having polished off half a sake bottle and ruminating on the enigma of Ben Solo. She hated his guts yet understood him on a visceral level. A new revelation that now innately drew her to him. Maybe it was the fact that he had no mate. That’s probably it.  
  
He couldn’t be unmarked. The tone of his voice, the depth of the sadness in it, she’d  _ felt _ his pain. He was lacking half his soul. He hadn’t found her, but didn’t Rose’s notes mention he’s 32? And wasn’t that 2 years ago?  
  
A pang of heartache clamps around her chest like a vise as she gingerly coaxes a seasoned edamame bean out of its shell with her teeth. Why does this even bother her? Last week she was picturing the gory details of his demise happily, and if he’s wasted his time not finding his soulmate, well, that shouldn’t affect her.  
  
Except it does. It very much does. Because that could be her one day. What if her soulmate didn’t want to find her? What if she wasn’t good enough for him? What if she ended up like Ben, irate and brusque? What if he’s her soulmate? That would be impossible. Guys like him have the resources to hire people specialized in the hunt for his soulmate. And yet, he sounded so lonely, like all the money and resources in the world couldn’t find his other half. It’s gut wrenching, really.   
  
Asshole or not, every cell in her body is screaming at her. She’s physically incapable of  _ not _ caring. Of  _ not _ letting him affect her.  
  
The arrival of Rose breaks her spiraling contemplations. She’s standing in front of a dazed Rey squealing, holding the hand of a tall man with perfectly quaffed red hair, a pale complexion and clear green eyes. He stands stiffly, like he’s had a cane shoved up his ass in replacement of a spine.  
  
Rey stands up immediately to hug her friend and shake the man’s hand.  
  
“Hello, Rey,” he says slyly.  
  
“You must be Armie. I’ve heard so much about … Y-you sound familiar… have we met?”  
  
“Aah, no. But I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Rey. Rosie calls me Armie, but you might know me better as Armitage. Armitage Hux.”  
  
Does her jaw hit the floor? She’s not sure.   
  


—————————————————-

  
  


Ben’s days go surprisingly well. Taking his mother’s advice (scolding) had actually done a half decent job at giving him an iota of peace on Monday. The written piece Hux forwarded from Rey amplified that peace on Tuesday. He’d worked through all the paperwork and meetings in a surprisingly decent mood. Even let down Hux and Rose easily about Kaydel. They seemed to accept his choice not to pursue  _ without _ pushback.  
  
Now splayed out on his couch at home he looks at his glass of Corelian whiskey against the setting sun. The light reflecting off the amber liquid glittering as he re-reads the ending of Rey’s article on him.  
  
He can hardly recognize himself in her words. How could someone he’s been such a prick to write such kind words? She wrote the piece as though she saw right through his armour, right into his soul, yet exposed none of the sensitive bits he protects so fiercely.   
  
She highlighted his best features, his philanthropy without naming the specific organizations, his love of animals, his regimented belief in regular exercise. She does all of these things through a positive lens. All qualities in himself he considered … blah. Who doesn’t love animals? Who doesn’t feel good after a workout? Who doesn’t donate here and there? He didn’t think these were some magical qualities, and yet, here she was painting him like an almighty fucking wizard.  
  
  
_  
Ben Solo is the visionary leader the world needs more of. Finding the perfect balance between profitability and social responsibility, his ingenuity is a rare trait in an era wrought with cold capitalism. When the opportunity rises to take advantage, Mr. Solo sees a chance to do good, levelling the playing field between corporate and human welfare.  
  
_ _ We should all strive to be a little more like the CEO of the First Order. If not on the same grand scale, in our own small ways. By making a donation, helping someone less fortunate, and looking at the world as the sum of its parts. This isn’t just about food, it’s about inciting social change and bringing gastric joy in the process.  
  
_ _ Not all heroes wear capes. Some deliver your favourite takeout. _

  
  


She made him sound like a straight Saint. He’d need to send her flowers, an award or something. But another thing entirely is weighing on his conscience.  
  
Rey was also reading The Alchemist. And her favourite dish is Shanghai Noodles. That’s just coincidence right? That and her accent. One he’s been dreaming of since that fated subway ride over a week ago.  
  
 _You’re not alone.  
  
_ He puts his laptop on the coffee table and throws back the last of the whiskey leaning forward on his knees. An uncharacteristic fluttering stirs in his chest. Before he can delve deeper, his phone rings in his pocket.  
  
He grimaces at the screen when he sees it’s his mother, briefly toying with the idea of letting her talk to his voicemail. Good etiquette prevails.  
  
“Yeah. Ma.”  
  
“Benny. You’re picking up my calls more often these days.”  
  
“You called to test my availability?”  
  
“No. I called to thank you for talking to Rey. I read the piece she wrote...”  
  
“As did I,” he clears his throat, “she makes me sound so …”  
  
“Normal?”  
  
He barks out a laugh in answer. The woman always went for the jugular.  
  
“Yeah. Normal. Like I’m not some degenerate giant with a propensity for being an absolute dick and a very checkered past.”  
  
“You’re too hard on yourself Ben. Is … is this about your soulmate again?”  
  
“For fucks sake Ma!”  
  
“It is, isn’t it,” it’s a statement, not a question.  
  
They’re both silent. For a fleeting moment he considers his mother has hung up because he cussed … twice.  
  
“What’s bothering you Ben? What’s _really_ bothering you?”  
  
He sighs knowing it’s best to just rip off the bandage. She’s gone in for the kill, no need to thrash, not when you’re in the jaws of this mother shark.  
  
“I-I uhh … remember how … it’s just that…”  
  
“Spit it out Ben.”  
  
“I think I found her…”  
  
There’s a loud squeal on the other end of the line and he hears his mother scream ‘ _HAN! Get my mother’s ring! And go buy some Dom NOW!’  
  
_ “If you’d let me finish,” he grinds out feeling his hackles rising, “remember how last week my car crapped out? Well I took the subway and two stops before my office a woman brushed by me and I felt _it_ , that jolt.”  
  
“Hold on, how do you know it wasn’t just static electricity?”  
  
He considers how he’s going to word this delicately.  
  
“Ma?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“The scent thing … that’s real right?”  
  
“Oh Ben. Yes!”  
  
He’s quiet.  
  
“Honey, the mark itself is basically a gland containing a mixture of nerve endings and hormone receptors. It releases a faint scent that can only be picked up by your soulmate. Your olfactory senses are in tune with one another’s scents. It’s like your personal musk, letting them know you’re nearby. It’s an evolutionary feature, to help mates find each other easily. You were never one to listen in biology class, though, were you?”  
  
“No, I wasn’t. And that’s what the internet says too.”  
  
“Wait, did you scent her?”  
  
“Yep. It was … like it was made for me.”  
  
On the other end he hears his mother _ooooh_ before yelling at his father again ‘ _Han! I don’t see you heading to the liquor store. The Dom for God’s sake!’  
  
_ “Well you see…” he pauses knowing he needs to place his next words carefully before he gets an earful, “she got off, and before I could react. The doors closed and the train just ... took off.”  
  
“Benjamin Solo if I were there right now I’d be smacking you six ways from Sunday. _You let her get AWAY?_ ”  
  
At that his mother started yelling some profanely laced babble about grandbabies and a daughter-in-law to spoil. He didn’t listen, his ear was still ringing from her last shrill delivery, the phone pulled a good 6 inches from his head.  
  
“Yeah. I hope you understand why I’ve been so…” his mother affords him no time for explanation, interrupting him mid sentence.  
  
“Ben, Jesus _fucking_ Christ. We’ve got to find her.”  
  
His mother never swears. He’s sure he’s going to get one hell of a licking the next time he sees her. _Fuck_.  
  
“I know.”  
  
There’s silence on the line again, this time it hangs thick, both mother and son deep in personal contemplation.  
  
“You said she was on 2 stops before your office?”  
  
He hums in confirmation.  
  
“You were coming or going home, correct?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“I’ll keep an eye out for your mark. She’s in the vicinity of Rebel Media.”  
  
“That’s …”  
  
He’d never thought of that. And all of a sudden the angel on the phone floods his mind. Their similarities, her ability to see beyond his walls, her accent, and now the proximity. This can’t be coincidence … can it? He throws all caution to the wind in a last ditch effort.  
  
 _Neither are you.  
  
_ “Hey Ma? Rey…”  
  
“What about her?”  
  
“The woman … when she brushed past she excused herself and had a British accent. Rey… how old is she?”  
  
“She was 22 when we hired her so that makes her … 24 now.”  
  
Ben starts seeing spots in his peripheral vision. Holy _fucking_ shit. The puzzle fits.  
  
“Do you … do you happen to know her birthday?”  
  
“Give me a second. I gotta pull up the HR files,” she mutters and he can hear her clacking away on her computer, “July 10…”  
  
“Does she have a soulmate mark?”  
  
“God almighty! I’ll check for her mark tomorrow.”  
  
He lets out a shaky breath. He’s usually more of a do-it-yourself kind of guy, but he’ll take all the help he can get. There’s no time for stoicism. She’s real, it wasn’t a figment of his imagination or latent electric energy. It’s real. It’s her. _It’s her_.  
  
“Thanks Ma.”  
  
They hang up and he stares dumbly at his book, picking it up with a shaking hand and haphazardly opening it up to a random page. Kismet.   
  
His phone buzzes with an incoming text.

HUX:  _ @ Dinner with Rose. You’ll never believe who her friend is.  
  
_ HUX:  _ I met Rey Niima.   
  
  
_ His throat is dry, his eyes peeled wide and he glances between his phone and the book slowly scanning the page to where his fingers landed.  
  
“ _ The boy and his heart had become friends, and neither was capable now of betraying the other. _ ”  
  
_ What are the chances? _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so they technically don't meet, but fate is bringing them closer together. Amirite?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I wanted to come by and thank you for those articles Rey,” the woman starts and she swears she can see her eyes darting to her forearms a few times, “the work you did was excellent.”_
> 
> _The General takes her hands in hers, flipping them up to expose her forearms and squeezes them gently. Rey doesn’t miss the fact that it feels like she’s being examined, not the way that her actions seem calculated, her eyes wandering over her forearms bordering on obscene. She’s sure the gesture is meant to be motherly, it just comes across as … raking._
> 
> _“Umm, thank you Mrs. Organa?”_
> 
> _“Leia, please call me Leia.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the gap! This chapter blankets over the following week.

The articles were an absolute hit. She’d gotten calls from Mitaka, Pryde, and Hux thanking her for her kind words.   
  
Reception even delivered an odd yet strangely beautiful bouquet from the First Order. It was composed predominantly of pink lotus flowers with smaller sprays of angelica, camomile and edelweiss flowers, and (oddly) sprigs of thyme - all flowers she’d discover a little later that morning. It filled her desk area with the heady scent of soft florals, spicy woods and an undertone of calming sweetness. Like she was in an aromatherapy store, but exceptionally better. The only problem was that it didn’t come with a note, making it difficult for her to figure out who to thank for the thoughtful gesture.  
  
And for some reason, when she arrived that morning, the office was boiling hot. After settling her items and marvelling at her bouquet, for the better part of an hour whilst fanning herself, she hears soft footsteps approach. They come to a stop behind her, as in, whoever it is isn’t just passing by. They want to talk to her. Before 10:00 AM. When the office’s thermostat is set to sauna, and her coffee mug is still mostly full. With an eye roll she grabs her coffee mug for a deep pull and swivels around bracing herself for what’ll obviously be a stupid question.  
  
She _almost_ snorts coffee out her nose when she sees the General standing behind her with an odd smile, it’s … it’s almost _sly?_ Automatically she starts to sweat. And sweat she does, like a nun in a cucumber patch. _Fuck_ .  
  
“Umm, Mrs. Organa … good morning?”  
  
The woman eyes the bouquet and her smile grows exceptionally wider, then looks back at her with an odd tilt of the head before stepping forward to lean her hip on the desk. Is she on the prowl? She looks like a predator sizing up its prey.  
  
What the fuck is going on? The General never just comes by to check. Oh my God she’s getting canned. Fuck! Shit! Why is she sweating so much?   
  
She’s now sweating profusely under the General’s heated gaze, so much so, she starts to strip her white chunky-knit cardigan off to reveal her loose, white, sleeveless blouse.   
  
The General nods approvingly. Is she approving of a strip show? What the hell?  
  
“I wanted to come by and thank you for those articles Rey,” the woman starts and she swears she can see her eyes darting to her forearms a few times, “the work you did was excellent.”  
  
The General takes her hands in hers, flipping them up to expose her forearms and squeezes them gently. Rey doesn’t miss the fact that it feels like she’s being examined, not the way that her actions seem calculated, her eyes wandering over her forearms bordering on obscene. She’s sure the gesture is meant to be motherly, it just comes across as … raking.  
  
“Umm, thank you Mrs. Organa?”  
  
“Leia, please call me Leia.”  
  
For some strange fucking reason the General’s eyes take on a glint of sadness. Rey eyes her suspiciously, or, as much as acceptable when your boss is being a creep. It comes across a little constipated with her blended half smile, furrowed brows and squinted eyes.  
  
“Yeah. The C Suites seem to really love the pieces. I’m really happy I was able to capture their essence and shine a human light on them all.”  
  
The General looks at the bouquet again, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and nods.  
  
“Clearly,” she tilts her head towards the floral arrangement.  
  
“I have no idea who sent that, but I quite like it.”  
  
“It’s an odd arrangement, don’t you think?”  
  
Is she being cryptic? She must be. The General doesn’t say things just for the hell of it, her words are always calculated, always have an end goal. Her communication strategies are carefully curated sentences meant to guide you _just_ where she wants you. So she can strike.  
  
“I mean … yes it’s odd. Most bouquets I’ve seen are just roses or carnations or lillies. What are those big ones anyway?”  
  
“Lotus dear,” the General begins to fan herself, from the heat no doubt, “and those little sprays there, those are camomile, and edelweiss, and those medium bunches are angelica. And that aromatic skinny one is thyme.”  
  
“D-did you send these? I mean … you seem to know an awful lot about its composition. Thank you. They’re beautiful.”  
  
“Oh no dear,” the General swats her shoulder gently, “I’m just a bit of an anthophile. But … an arrangement like that, odd as it is, I’d venture it holds some meaning.”  
  
Rey’s brows furrow in thought. Maybe she could spare some time to Google the flowers for meaning? But … why would someone do that? It’s a thank you bouquet for fucks sake.  
  
The General puffs up her cheeks and lets out a big huff of air, “I’m sorry it’s so hot in here. The HVAC system is under maintenance and apparently our contractor didn’t get the memo to reduce heating in spring. They’re here now fixing it.”  
  
“Oh thank God! I’m sweating bullets.”  
  
At that, Rey feels the need to relieve more of the heat. She gathers her loose hair from around her shoulders, twisting then rolling it into a loose coil. She reaches for her lightsaber pen, threading it through her hair, through the bun diagonally before securing it behind her ear.  
  
The General gets up walking behind her, grabbing loose tendrils of hair to tuck them into her bun.  
  
“You have a very unconventional way of putting your hair up, I usually prefer braids,” she tells her and Rey _swears_ she can feel the General’s hand sweep across the back of her neck and lower the collar of her blouse.  
  
“Growing up in the system I didn’t always have luxuries like hair ties. But there were always pens to be had so I learned to make due.”  
  
She hears the General let out another sigh. This one sounded … mournful? _What?  
  
_ “You’re a brave woman Rey,” the General tucks the last few strands into her bun and starts walking away.  
  
“Thank you again for your hard work. Don’t forget about our meeting in 10.”  
  
Rey looks at the time in her desktop tray then clicks to her calendar to confirm. Yep, **First Order Scrum** , 10:00 AM.  
  
“I’ll be there. And thank you Gen - Mrs. - Leia”  
  
As the General walks away she looks back at Rey through what can only be sad eyes, “I know they call me The General, but please, from now on call me Leia.”  
  
The Gen - _Leia_ \- moves between the cubicles back towards her office, Rey notices the strangest thing, she’s wiping a tear away pulling out her phone to send an email? A text?  
  
What the hell just happened? Why was the Gen - _Leia_ \- eyeballing her like a soulmate dating service? Why does she look heartbroken? Why the fuck does she know so much about flowers? Flowers … yes what the hell!  
  
She’s got 10 minutes right? Fine, 7 with a caffeine top-up and the short walk to the conference room.   
  
Willing the stunned expression off her face, she pulls up her Chrome browser and plugs “Lotus Flower Meaning” into Google. The feature snippet gives her what she needs:  
  
  
 _The_ **_Lotus flower_ ** _is regarded in many different cultures, especially in eastern religions, as a symbol of purity, enlightenment, self-regeneration and rebirth. Its characteristics are a perfect analogy for the human condition: even when its roots are in the dirtiest waters, the_ **_Lotus_ ** _produces the most beautiful_ **_flower_ ** _.  
  
  
_ Umm, whoa?  
  
She proceeds to repeat the process with the rest. What had the Gen - _Leia_ said?  
  
Angelica: Inspiration & Encouragement  
Chamomile: Energy & Patience in Adversity  
Edelweiss: Courage & Devotion  
Thyme: Courage & Strength, Elegance  
  
She pushes away from her desk stunned, making her way to the breakroom for a coffee refill. Whoever sent her this wasn’t just saying thank you, they were saying more. _So_ much more. It’s like they know her mantra, they know her struggle and are thanking her for more than just an article - for being _her_ , for being _strong_ .  
  
 _Neither are you.  
  
_ But she doesn’t get a chance to delve any deeper because Poe pops in and grabs her for the scrum.

  
  


[x]

  
  


“The First Order is absolutely delighted with the articles. How do we solidify our relationship with them in light of this recent success?”  
  
Kaydel is tapping away at her laptop at the conference table, taking minutes, Rey reminds herself sipping her coffee. She’s trying not to look at her long manicured fingers as they clack away loudly on the keyboard. She tries not to feel a twinge of jealousy that one person can be so perfectly put together, taking a quick glance at her own short, bare nails.  
  
“A gift?” Zari chimes in. She’s one of Poe’s fellow Project Managers.  
  
“We can send them wine. Everyone loves wine.” Jessika adds thoughtfully. Rey’s copy Editor.  
  
“If we’re gifting booze, wouldn’t a top-shelf scotch work better? The C Suites are men afterall.” Finn rebuts the suggestions as the only developer in the scrum.  
  
“That’s a bit presumptuous, isn’t it?” Amilyn Holdo chides, “men love wine just as much as women. Wine has no gender.”  
  
The women in the room snicker and nod in agreement. Amilyn is the CFO and is here to keep their budgeting in check.  
  
“What if, instead of gifts we give them _an experience_ ?” Poe offers.  
  
The Gen - _Leia_ \- is pacing at the front of the room in contemplation but she seems to be nodding.  
  
“I think you’re right Poe,” she meets his eyes, “C Suites regularly receive gifts from all their suppliers in an attempt to woo them. Peg down the next contract. Experiences are more valuable _and_ can help us bond with them.”  
  
Poe looks smug. Then again, when doesn’t he look smug?  
  
“Okay, what about a nice dinner at a swanky restaurant?” Amilyn suggests.  
  
“Carlac’s got a great atmosphere,” Jessika offers.  
  
“What if one of them is allergic to fish? Or just hates sushi?” Finn asks.  
  
“Well you can’t give them a dinner experience at the Cheesecake Factory,” Jessika bites back.  
  
Finn grumbles back something to the effect of _‘I disagree’_ .  
  
“So maybe something less … unique?” Zari offers to break the tension.  
  
“Nah, then it’s not special,” Poe’s brows furrow. He and Finn lock eyes. Some unspoken words seem to flow through them like a silent bond, and they both break into a mischievous smile.  
  
“Let’s take them for a night of drinking,” Poe blurts out.  
  
“Absolutely _not_ !” Zari smacks her hand on the table, “these men aren’t in their 20s looking to score at a bar or get plastered.”  
  
“That’s exactly _why_ it’s a great idea, Zari,” Poe turns to Rey fixing her with an expectant stare, “Rey, how old are the C Suites?”  
  
She didn’t expect to offer input. Usually she adds her 10 cents worth of vanilla input to be a _team player_ , but really just waits for Kaydel’s minutes to grab her task list.  
  
She clears her throat, “well the CEO and COO are 34, CFO 60, and CMO 30.”  
  
Poe smirks in answer and stands up to begin pacing, “Perfect. We’ll take them for a night out at The Empire. These men have spent so much time grinding to grease the First Order engine, they probably haven’t had a decent night of debauchery in a decade … some even longer.”  
  
“It _would_ be cheaper than dinner…” Amilyn offers thoughtfully.  
  
“That’s insane! You want to bring a bunch of suits to a nightclub?” Jessika looks about 5 seconds from blowing a gasket, the most animated Rey’s ever seen her. And she’s seen her rip into the newest copywriter, Jyn, _a lot_ lately.  
  
“Now Jess, hear him out. It’s not a bad idea,” Finn puts a soothing hand on her clenched fist.  
  
Poe looks at the Gen - _Leia_ \- for permission. A curt nod in response allows him to continue.  
  
“Their supply chain probably gets them dinners at finer establishments then we can make reservations on short notice. They’re probably showered with gifts regularly, probably nicer ones than we’d get them. But _no one_ , can offer the youthful spunk we can give them. Think about it, do you think their uptight reps would take them to a club? No they’d rather buy them _another_ flat screen TV.”  
  
There’s a silence in the room as everyone mulls over his words, with the exception of Kaydel, she’s still clacking away.   
  
The Gen - _Leia_ \- slaps her hands together stunning everyone.   
  
“I like it. Make it relatively early. What time does this _Empire_ open?”  
  
“9:00 PM,” Finn answers.  
  
“Alright then, make it an early night. They may be out of touch with the youth but we don’t want them to get rowdy and blame us for any … _unfortunate_ … choices. Take them from 9:00 to 11:00. How soon can you set this up Poe?”  
  
“I can get a booth booked for Friday. It’s always a good crowd then.”  
  
“Good. See that it’s done. And coordinate with Amilyn to put the reservation on the company card. Give me a list of attendees from both sides. When we confirm the list we’ll draft up a bottle service order so accounting isn’t surprised.”  
  
With that they were dismissed.

  
  


[x]

  
  


By Friday the guestlist was confirmed. The 4 suites of the First Order, Finn, Poe, Jessika, Kaydel (to be Leia’s eyes and ears) and Rey. By extension Rose also received an invite - because she’s dealt with the First Order before, and because she’s Hux’s soulmate.  
  
“Did you pack an overnight?”  
  
Rose’s head pokes out from around her cubicle wall, scaring the shit out of Rey.  
  
“Jesus Rose, were you raised in a fright house? You just scared me half to death!”  
  
Rose giggles sweetly, her galoshes squeaking their way into Rey’s cubicle.  
  
“Sorry babe. Well, did you? Armie and I set up the guest room for you.”  
  
She knew she was forgetting something this morning, but between daylight savings time screwing with her circadian rhythms and Maz’s insistent _feed-me_ yowls, she’d all but run out the front door this morning.  
  
“I’m so sorry Rose, I totally forgot,” she admits glumly.  
  
“Rey!”  
  
She sighs. Of course this was coming. Rose does _not_ take kindly to anyone fucking with her plans, Rey included. Especially if said plans include a night of drinking. Rey had tried to cancel on her _once_ and learned her lesson.  
  
“I’m so, _so_ sorry, but maybe it’s for the best. I won’t have to hear the carnal noises you two make.”  
  
 _That_ draws out a heated giggle.  
  
“I think we have some spare toothbrushes and I can lend you an outfit and PJs. Nothing Mama Rose can’t handle.”  
  
“Or we can do that, yes. But what if I want to leave the club early?”  
  
“Rey, _come on_ ! You’ll never find your man at home!”  
  
She nods but isn’t convinced. The MRK app exists. Besides, her soulmate wouldn’t be frequenting nightclubs. If he’s anything like her, and he must be if he’s half her soul, he’ll like spending his Friday evenings cozy at home, with a good book.  
  
An errant memory of Ben Solo’s revelation about being an avid reader with a penchant for quiet Friday nights pushes into the forefront of her thoughts. What if he...  
  
“Maybe he’s not into clubbing?”  
  
“Well you won’t find that out sitting at home either.”  
  
Rey smirks at her persistent little friend and blows her raspberry.  
  
“Besides, _grandma_ ,” Rose jests softly, “if it’s really not your thing we can always charge an extra Uber to the company card.”  
  
“Well,” she waggles her eyebrows, “in that case I’m sold.”  
  
“Alright chicky, I’ll swing by at 5 and we leave together. Wine and take out at my place then off to the club?”  
  
“Do you think we can fit a nap in there?”  
  
Rose scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically as she saunters away.  
  
“OK Boomer!”  
  
Rey giggles then promptly pulls out her phone to type a message to her neighbor.

  
  
REY: _Mind hopping over to my place to feed Maz? I’ve got a work function tonight and I’ll be out late.  
  
_ JANNAH: _Yeah no problem. I’m dog sitting though and he’s a bit of a cling-on  
  
_ JANNAH: _you OK with me bringing him over while I feed Maz?  
  
_ REY: _yeah no problem. I owe you big time! ❤️_

  
  


[x]

  
  


There’s wine. _Oh_ , there’s wine. And take-out Pad Thai with extra peanuts.  
  
Rose is doing her best Risky Business Impression by 8:30 PM, wearing one of Armie’s shirts and sunglasses while Rey has donned her Sporty Spice best. Wearing only her leggings and sports bra, she’s dancing alongside Rose, both giggling helplessly as they slide across the polished wood floors.  
  
They’re tipsy. This round of tomfoolery was spurred by their scavenging Rose’s closet for something Rey could wear. Which had led to Rose finding Armie’s freshly pressed shirts instead. Which led her to put one on and accessorising it with his Ray Bans.  
  
That’s how they find themselves (attempting) the moonwalk while the door opens behind them, completely enraptured in fits of giggles, oblivious to the new presence.  
  
“Honey, I’m home!”  
  
Rose squeals in delight. Rey screams in terror, grabbing a pillow to cover her midriff.  
  
Hux drops his bag and jacket, taking 2 wide steps to nuzzle his nose against Rose’s. His arm wraps around her neck, pressing their soulmate marks together. Theirs are white. That’s what happens to soulmate marks when you find each other, when they touch.  
  
“Oy! Get a room you two.”  
  
Armie smiles wholesomely at her.  
  
“I’ll be out of your hair shortly. Just came to drop off my laptop and jacket,” he waves his hand at the dropped baggage, “Ben’s downstairs anyway. He _hates_ waiting.”  
  
Rey scoffs, what _doesn’t_ that guy hate. One good phone call doesn’t dampen her immediate negative reaction to his name, though...  
  
He turns to Rose, “I’ll see you soon darling?”  
  
He boops her nose with his finger and Rey does all she can not to swoon, wishing she had that. Wishing so _hard.  
  
_ “And don’t get her too drunk. Her work is invaluable to us,” he tilts his head towards Rey, not once breaking eye contact with his soulmate, “wouldn’t want to kill her precious brain cells.”  
  
Rey rolls her eyes and starts walking down the corridor to the bedrooms.  
  
“I can hear you, you know, and I’m _not_ a lightweight. Remember who wasn’t stumbling after 4 bottles of Sake?” she hollers back, taking a deep sip of wine.  
  
She walks straight into their spare room where Rose’s clubbing options had exploded, wading through skimpy dresses and tops.  
  
“Did you? She has a mark?”   
  
She hears the words whispered. Her tipsy brain decides a little eavesdropping is in order. She pads quietly to stand just to the side of the door, pricking her ears.  
  
“Shhh”  
  
“Rose, did you know about this?”  
  
“Not until recently. It’s beautiful isn’t it? Wings encircling a star hilted sword.”  
  
There’s a pause, a silence.   
  
“I want to help her find him, Armie.”  
  
“That placement… the mark ... it-it looks so familiar...”  
  
There’s a honk outside and the whispering stops again. Then she hears Armie speak loudly.  
  
“Alright Rosie, I'll see you soon. Don’t be too long or I’ll start to miss you.”  
  
Rey hears soft giggling and the wet sound of kisses before the door slams shut and Rose’s footsteps start closing in on the spare room. She grasps at the nearest clothing item, pretending to be immersed in it as not to rouse suspicion when her friend rounds the corner.  
  
A creamy short sleeved shift dress with large iridescent paliettes that shimmer blue and green is dangling from her fingers.   
  
“Oh good! You found _the one_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose this is a bad time to mention the next chapter will cover the same time span from Ben's POV?


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Her bright hazel eyes are fixed on him and her perfect pink lips part just a touch, a small inhaled breath. He takes in the fine dusting of freckles across the dainty bridge of her nose and high cheekbones, he wants to reach out and touch them. No make-up. She’s absolutely stunning. His eyes dart down briefly to see, to his chagrin, her forearms are bare._
> 
> _But his heart is fluttering nonetheless, blood is pounding in his ears and his forearm burns. Before he can take a breath, before he can form any words he hears Rose say what he already knows._
> 
> _“Oh hey Ben! Have you met Rey?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, ok. I’m sorry it took this long but they finally meet. Mind the time jump. This chapter is an accompaniment to Rey’s spanning the week.

He’d sent her flowers. After a lot of personal R&D he settled for a unique bouquet that signified strength, courage, patience, inspiration and purity. Because that’s what she represented to him.   
  
The arrangement was a pain in the ass to have made up and he’d spent plenty of time cursing at less-than-helpful florists who tried to sway him in this direction or that. Mostly based on what they had in stock no doubt. Few had lotus, and of the ones who did, fewer would center a bouquet around them. People usually bought them as singles, mostly because they were so fucking expensive. Even less florists also carried edelweiss. Actually, just one in all of Coruscant.  
  
_ That _ flower was a very particular and non-negotiable choice he made, partly because he’d convinced himself she was  _ the one _ , and edelweiss is known to represent devotion. Who else would climb the heights of the alps to collect such a rare flower but those wholly devoted?  
  
He’d arranged for it to arrive first thing in the morning, with the best intentions. Now that he’d found her, he just needed to woo her and this was phase one. A paving stone to rectify their rocky start.  
  
That is, until his mother messaged him later that morning.

LEIA:  _ She’s unmarked Ben.  
  
_ BEN:  _ What?  
  
_ LEIA:  _ I checked. Turned the heat up to sweat her out of heavy layers. There’s no mark. _

His mother’s message all but decimated the hope that was building in his chest. He doesn’t even register the extent she’d gone through to get him  _ that _ tidbit of information. Ben deflated faster than a fucking helium balloon at an Alvin & The Chipmunks convention.

LEIA:  _ That arrangement was beautiful though Ben.   
  
_ LEIA:  _ I love you. _

He threw his phone onto his desk and buried his face in his hands, releasing a loud, depraved groan.   
  
It doesn’t make sense. How is someone the _right_ age with the _right_ birthday _not_ _the one_? Does he have to hire a PI to get her birth certificate and confirm the time of birth?  
  
All the signs were there, weren’t they? And if not for the smaller hints, they’re similar, aren’t they? She’s an avid reader, likes the same food (he doesn’t dwell on the fact that it’s just one dish albeit his favourite), works in the right vicinity.   
  
And if none of that were to matter, the _way_ she wrote about him, that wasn’t _just_ words. She _understood_ him, beyond spoken word. Like she intrinsically understood his loneliness. Doesn’t that count for _something_? Doesn’t that underscore their similarities? Aren’t soulmates similar?   
  
_You’re not alone.  
  
_ Surely his mother must be mistaken. She hadn’t checked enough. Maybe she needs to see an optometrist? She’s up there in age, macular degeneration a very real problem with that cohort. His gut rages against the revelation. It doesn’t _feel_ right.  
  
He shoves his phone again, metaphorically shoving this road bump aside with it. This won’t affect his day, his life! He’s got shit to deal with and this is distracting in the worst way. But isn’t that how he got here in the first place? Shoving important things aside, compartmentalising for later, only later never comes? Less than a year away from his 35th now with no soulmate in sight?  
  
His phone rings and, for a moment, he hopes it’s her. If nothing else he wants to hear her angelic voice again, maybe she’ll thank him for the flowers. It’ll at least give him a small sense of closure.  
  
It’s Pryde.  
  
“Solo, got a minute to go over the numbers?”  
  
“Be right there.”  
  
He stands up to go see his CFO. This better be good fucking news, God knows he could use some right now.

  
  


[x]

  
  


“Financially we’re in the black and judging by our first quarter I’d say we have enough to buy out the investors and still turn a profit by the end of the second.”  
  
“This is good news.”  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
The older man swivels in his chair, giving Ben his profile as he laces his fingers in front of his mouth.  
  
“What do you need from me to set the pieces in motion?”  
  
The man looks forward thoughtfully, fingers brushing down to his chin then back up in contemplation.  
  
“For now, your stamp of approval, access to our lawyers with an NDA … and your silence.”  
  
“You have it all. Unequivocally.”  
  
The CFO nods slowly, turning back to Ben who’s lounging back on the guest seats in the office.   
  
“Good. We’ll see it done.”  
  
The low ringing of his desk phone breaks their quiet conversation.  
  
“Huh. Rebel Media Group.”  
  
Ben’s heart skips a beat. Maybe it’s her. Maybe she’s calling Pryde to talk about his piece. He won’t talk, just listen to her voice because he just  _ knows _ it’ll bring him relief, even if it’s temporary. Her voice is like a balm, soothing his nerves. But no luck.  
  
Pryde presses the speaker button and Poe’s voice greets them.  
  
“Dameron. This is Pryde.”  
  
“Hey Pryde! How are ya buddy?”  
  
The CFO frowns, swivelling his chair to face the phone and leaning his elbows on the desk. He looks about ready to pounce on the phone.  
  
“You didn’t call to chit chat, did you Dameron?”  
  
“Always to the point with you numbers guys.”  
  
“As it should be.”  
  
“Right, well … I would like to extend an invitation to you and your colleagues for an evening celebrating our joint success.”  
  
“Have you spoken to them?”  
  
“I’m making the rounds now. Hux and Mitaka have agreed and I can’t seem to peg down Solo. We’d like to take you out for drinks. You know, the proverbial pat on the back and a hearty cheers.”  
  
“Solo is here”  
  
“Hi Dameron,” Ben chimes in, his cover blown.  
  
“Hey Ben! Glad I could stone two birds with one joint. So what do you say?”  
  
There was silence for some moments. A conversational stalemate as everyone waited for the others to speak.  
  
Ben sighs, raising his hand in mock defeat, “what did you have in mind Poe? What did my mother put you up to?”  
  
There’s laughter on the line.  
  
“No, this wasn’t her idea. She wanted to send you  _ wine _ . I said we should all get drunk.”  
  
Ben barks out a haughty laugh. He’d always appreciated Poe’s forward nature and understood why his mother put so much stock in him. He was a fly-by-night kind of guy, exactly the type his mother would utilize to carry out her guerilla tactics.  
  
“You’re planning on getting my top guys drunk, Dameron?”  
  
“Nah, we just want to enjoy some drinks and each other's company … and if we happen to get drunk so be it. Would you prefer the wine?”  
  
“Judging by my mother’s taste, it’ll probably be easier on accounting to go with the outing.”  
  
“See Ben? That’s why you and I get along swimmingly. You get it! So … whaddya say?”  
  
There’s a beat of silence, Pryde has acquiesced the call to Ben, who’s turning the options in his head.  
  
“Send us the invite. You’ll have a unanimous decision from us by end of day.”  
  
“Looking forward to it. Good talking to you Ben, Pryde.”  
  
The line disconnects and Pryde looks at Ben a little smugly.   
  
“Well this is the kind of team building we haven’t done in a while. I’d quite enjoy some socializing. God knows my wife is dull as rocks.”  
  
“We’ll see.”

  
  


[x]

  
  


He did see. Everyone included on the invite, that is. And she was there. Great time to double check his mother’s handiwork and see for himself. There’s a warmth blooming in his chest making him giddy with anticipation.  
  
Something deep in his gut tells him it’s her, he just needs proof. This could be a good opportunity. The  _ perfect _ opportunity. She wouldn’t be wearing a sweater in a nightclub right? The neck might be a tough spot to check but there’s ways - dropping something on the floor, offering a back rub if the opportunity arises and it’s not too creepy, hey, maybe she’s a particularly avid dancer.  
  
Dancing. A loud groan escapes him, reminiscent of a dying animal. He  _ hates _ nightclubs. Didn’t like them in college, doesn’t like them now.   
  
He’s tall enough to look awkward on the dance floor even though his mother insisted on ballroom dancing lessons. And he’s still pretty sure he’s only got left feet, no matter how much his teachers drilled form and tempo into him.  
  
Why the fuck did Dameron have to choose The Empire. That God forsaken hole in the wall with music that’s  _ too _ loud, women that are  _ too _ friendly, men that are  _ too _ … peacocky. It’s a fucking hormonal cesspool screaming  _ here to fuck, please _ .  
  
He can’t do this. He just  _ can’t _ . This isn’t him.  
  
Hux decides this particular moment of anxious contemplation is the perfect time to let himself into his office for a chat. The man is either itching to be choked to death or plans on killing him with his presence. He really needs to install a lock on his office door. Scrap that, where’s his fucking PA? She should be guarding his door, that’s what they do, right?  
  
“What do you want, Hux.”  
  
It’s not a question. It’s a  _ get the fuck out _ statement. He’s staring at his computer, at  _ the email _ , already probing for ways he can duck out without sounding like an uptight ass.  
  
“I’m here to make sure you RSVP.”  
  
_ Of course that’s why he’s here.  
  
_ “Is it your personal mission to keep me permanently uncomfortable?”  
  
“It’s my mission to help you find your soulmate. A club is a good start.”  
  
“Because finding  _ the one _ happens exclusively in loud, drunken crowds?”  
  
“The keyword here, Ben, is  _ crowd _ . The probability increases significantly in a  _ crowd _ .”  
  
An exasperated huff tears out of him, “you won’t let this go will you?”  
  
Hux turns away with a sly grin.  
  
“Nope. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten used to it though.”  
  
“Fine! But I drive.”

  
  


[x]

  
  


The club is dark, small crowds have already gathered around the two large backlit bars flanking a massive dance floor where a few clusters of dancers are bopping along. The DJ booth is centered against the back of the dancefloor, behind which a raised section for bottle service spans the back wall. Two small staircases, neatly roped off at either end and manned by a bouncer each, secure the VIP area from the crowd. A high ceiling tethers colorful ambient strobe lights above, setting the mood. An L-shaped balcony on the second floor hides the club’s offices, access to which is restricted through the center of the VIP area.  
  
Pryde is comfortably sprawled on a plush black velvet chair nursing a lowball of whiskey. Ben nods at him and the old man  _ actually _ smiles at him. He eyes the small gathering of Rebel Media employees that are already here.   
  
“Ben,” a slap on the shoulder, “Glad you could make it. Here.”  
  
Poe hands him a clear fizzy drink with a muddled slice of lime. Vodka soda. He likes this one actually, extra lime if available, but he and Hux had downed a few whiskeys at his place before they took an Uber over. Mixing hard liquor isn’t his idea of a good night.  
  
“Thanks, but if you don’t mind, I’ll have what he’s having,” Ben points nonchalantly at Pryde.  
  
Poe nods, taking a sip of the prepared drink and sets about pouring Ben’s.  
  
“Ice?”  
  
“Neat, thanks.”  
  
Foregoing the ice, Poe makes quick work of pouring the whiskey, handing it to Ben for perusal. His hand finds his shoulder again.  
  
“Let me introduce you. It’s been a while since you’ve stopped by the office.”  
  
It had been years actually. He prefers to stay away from his mother’s prying eyes. Besides, why waste his time with in person meetings when an email gets the job done in a fraction of the time. He’d watched a TedTalk when his team started growing on the biggest time wasters in an office - M&Ms - meetings and managers. He’d promised himself, there and then, he’d avoid those at all costs for a healthy work environment. Suppliers included.  
  
Poe turns him to a youthful woman, “This is Jessika, she’s our Lead Copy Editor.” She has a sweet, heart shaped face and thick dark hair. Pleasant, but no scent.  
  
“This is Finn, you’ve met before. He coded your current website,” Ben nods, shaking his hand too.  
  
_ Mental note, find Purell and disinfect. Too many hands touching.  
  
_ Poe whirls him around, “and this is Kaydel, the General- er  _ Leia’s _ PA.”  
  
_ Fuck.  _ This is  _ not _ how he’d seen the night going. He’s here to confirm his intuition and this might,  _ might _ , just throw his plans into a tailspin.  
  
Kaydel smiles at him sweetly, “Hello again, Ben.”  
  
Then she does the absolute worst thing, she slides beside him brushing his bicep with her fingers.   
  
_ Did she not get the memo after his completely platonic behavior on that date?  
  
_ His arms stiffen at his sides and he gives her a tight smile excusing himself, turning swiftly to sit by Hux on the velvet sofa.  
  
Somehow, the minutes pass and he manages to avoid Kaydel who’s now cheerfully chatting with Mitaka. He’s enjoying conversations with his staff and that of Rebel Media Group, making small talk and even cracking a few jokes. The crowd has increased in volume and the music has somehow gotten louder.   
  
He’s in the middle of chatting with Hux about his weekend plans when Poe interrupts with a group of 3 women - a leggy brunette with a long sleek ponytail, a voluptuous blonde with a ruby red pout and drunken eyes, and a slender one with a short pixie cut dyed royal blue. If project management doesn’t work out for him, Poe for sure has a future in pimping. He’s curated an array of women to suit any preference. It’s a brilliant tactic, really.  
  
“Girls, I’d like you to meet some very special guests. This is Ben,” he points at the man in question, “and this is Hux. Let’s show them a good time huh?”  
  
The girls start to move towards them and Hux raises a hand, pausing their advances effectively.  
  
“Now, now ladies. I’m spoken for, but Ben here…”  
  
“That won’t be necessary. Thank you all the same,” Ben fixes Poe with a stare.  
  
The women seem confused, frozen mid action, and Poe hustles them to where Mitaka has made himself comfortable talking to an inebriated Kaydel and a very content Pryde.   
  
Hux leans into Ben, “we talked about this Solo. You can’t just shoo off women. What if one of them was … you know,  _ the one _ ?”  
  
Ben sighs. He really doesn’t want to hear another earful of condescention coming from his friend about fucking out his frustrations or talking to  _ every  _ woman in hopes she’s the one. Time to come clean. Might as well get another ally on his side.  
  
“Hux, I found her.”  
  
The man’s eyes grow wide and his mouth parts with a sharp inhale. Since he’s known Armitage he’s been uptight, a vestige imparted on him by his late father Brendol. An accountant stiffer than an ironing board by nature. To see his perfectly schooled demeanor crumble is all but worth flaying his soul for.  
  
“Well do tell! I’ve only been waiting for this moment since we were what, 10? Remember? You showed up at my house crying with that mark on your arm that summer?”  
  
Ben nods, bracing himself to come clean, “two weeks ago when my car was in with Snap I took the subway to work. She was there. I smelled her, Armitage, and I felt her. But she was gone before I could reach her.”  
  
“You didn’t meet her?”  
  
“No, but her scent was … it was unreal. Like the most perfect baked goods and the perfect summer’s day and home and forever.”  
  
Hux smiles at him, a knowing grin.  
  
“This … is one hell of a new development,” he raises his glass in mock cheers, “and, it goes without saying but, I want to help you find her. Tell me more.”  
  
He wants to. In fact, he’s already building his case, collecting the strewn pieces he and his mother discussed earlier that week to formulate the story, but he doesn’t get to. Because a tall imposing figure steps into his peripheral vision coming down the stairs from the nightclub offices.  
  
“Aaah Benjamin Solo. How nice to see you’re spending your time chasing the carnal pleasures.”  
  
The menacing voice of his VC cuts through the loud music, turning the blood in his veins equal parts ice and fire. Snoke stands there shoulders squared, arms clasped behind, fixing him with his icy blue eyes. It takes everything he has not to lose his shit on the ancient fuckwit. Instead, he fights every instinct he has - punch, thrash, demolish - to stand up casually, turn to the man and offer a solid, professional handshake.  
  
“John Snoke, good to see you.”  
  
He sees a shadow, the shape of a man in what looks to be a cloak (who wears a fucking cloak?) on the staircase retreating. For some reason that apparition makes his skin crawl.  
  
“Is this what you do with my investment funds? Spend it on overpriced alcohol and lewd women?”  
  
_ Why the fuck is he goading him? What women?  _ He’s literally sitting on a sofa talking with his COO.  
  
“I assure you this is not a company expense. In fact, we’re here as guests of Rebel Media.”  
  
“Aah, fraternizing with your mother’s commoners. I thought I taught you better than that.”  
  
This man’s words are grating. If it were up to his VC, he’d be living in his office. Pouring himself into a never ending stream of pathetic monetization schemes like in-app ads, tiered subscriptions, and premium vendor sponsorships. All ideas Ben fights tooth and nail because it defeats the purpose of equalization and connecting businesses with people.  
  
He remains quiet, willing himself not to respond to the barbed jab. Knowing its purpose is to draw out his anger, to provoke him, an attempt to prove Snoke’s prowess. All in, this is yet another pissing match for suits and he absolutely  _ hates _ having to play this elitist fucking chess game.  
  
“What is the occasion then? Or do you make a habit of engaging your suppliers?”  
  
“Just … a successful project. Some website content that resonates well.”  
  
“You’re wasting your time Solo. Monetize. Capitalize.  _ Take _ what is rightfully yours.  _ Take _ the market.  _ Fulfill _ your destiny.”  
  
Part of the reason Snoke had chosen to invest in him was because he was aware of his grandfather’s legacy, even told him as much. Anakin Skywalker had managed to secure multiple business ventures in the early days of the city, making his family one of the most affluent in the area. Snoke had prattled about how Ben was destined for the same greatness. Except now it seems Snoke is just looking for some kind of prodigy that he’s not willing to be.  
  
“That is not the point John, and you know it.”  
  
“When, inevitably, your board of directors dismisses you, I want you to remember my words.”  
  
He can feel the last shreds of control seeping from him. The adrenaline setting raw fire to his veins. Through gritted teeth, he grinds out, “ _ when _ I have a board of directors,  _ you _ won’t be on it.”  
  
Snoke laughs at that. A deep, rumbling warning of a laugh and pats his shoulder.  
  
“I’m sure of that,  _ Ren _ .”  
  
His mouth goes dry, an electric spark licks up his spine and his fingers clench tightly into fists.  
  
“What did you say?”  
  
“I said, I’m sure of that,  _ Ben _ .”  
  
He can feel himself come undone and does the only thing he knows to do that isn’t destructive, “Good seeing you, John.”  
  
He’s had enough. If he continues to stay rooted to the spot he’ll do something unfortunate. Something that might land him in jail, or lose him the company. He does the next thing that his hindbrain dictates (foregoing the first instinct which is to rearrange the old fuck’s face) - he walks away.   
  
With swift, purposeful, steps and anger rolling off him in waves, he clears out of the VIP area, striding over the red velvet rope not waiting for the bouncer to unclip it. He barges across the dancefloor, through inebriated couples and groups of dancing girlfriends. Through the meager security hallway and out the front door.  
  
Right into a waiting crowd and a very stunned Rose.   
  
_ Rose _ , Hux’s mate.  _ Rose _ , who has her hand looped through a shivering vision of a woman. She looks like an angel, in a classy white shift dress that shimmers with blue and green paliettes.   
  
She’s shorter than he is, even with her heels on. Must be a good 5’6 of slender perfection. Her chestnut hair is swept up in a classy french twist.  _ Chestnut. Hair _ . She exudes finesse and beauty, a rose in a garden of thorns. Too perfect for the riff raff of a night club. Too pure for the debauchery inside and for a brief moment he imagines sweeping her off her feet and carrying her away from this god forsaken place.  
  
Her bright hazel eyes are fixed on him and her perfect pink lips part just a touch, a small inhaled breath. He takes in the fine dusting of freckles across the dainty bridge of her nose and high cheekbones, he wants to reach out and touch them. No make-up. She’s absolutely stunning. His eyes dart down briefly to see, to his chagrin, her forearms are bare.  
  
But his heart is fluttering nonetheless, blood is pounding in his ears and his forearm burns. Before he can take a breath, before he can form any words he hears Rose say what he already knows.  
  
“Oh hey Ben! Have you met Rey?”  
  
But he doesn’t. Meet Rey that is. Because at that precise moment a wash of bouncers and bloodied knuckles break through the front door behind them, taking him along with a brawl that’s being cleared out of the club.   
  
There’s frenzied motion, giant brutes of men radioing for backup, holding back the fighting parties. He’s pushed aside roughly by a second wave of bouncers and he stutters backwards, out of the line of fighting. He takes a moment to collect himself, find his center outside the chaos.  
  
When he does, when he finally frees himself of the scuffle and takes a deep breath he sees the two women being whisked inside. Her french twist gives him a clear view of the back of her neck, devoid of any markings.  
  
Dejected he turns to walk away, go home where he can relieve himself of the clusterfuck of the night, the week. Defeat and loneliness hang over him like a dark cloud. He needs to jerk off tonight, take matters into his own hands, relieve the pressure that’s been building. He  _ absolutely must _ do something to dispel the disappointment that’s swirling around him. But he knows his traitorous brain will flash visions of hazel eyes, freckled skin, and pouty pink lips even if she’s not  _ the one _ .  
  
As he walks away he registers the lingering scent of cinnamon buns and vanilla.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never promised they’d talk! Also, minor heads up, we’re heading into hurtsville for a micro moment (ok fine 2 chapters).


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“What did you do to Greedo?”_
> 
> _“Nothing he didn’t deserve.”_
> 
> _“You know he threatened to quit selling for us? He threatened straight to Kylo?”_
> 
> _“And?”_
> 
> _“And nothing. Just thought you should know. Guy’s got your back.”_
> 
> _They’re quiet for a moment. What the fuck does Cardo want her to say to that? ‘Oh thank you Mr. Kylo Ren, epic terror and bearer of my wet dreams, thank you for having my back’?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going into a series of time skips, so mind the gap. This covers snapshots over 2 months post launch.

It had all happened too fast. One moment she’s standing in front of Ben Solo, the next she’s inside the loud, dark, smelly confines of the nightclub being pulled by Rose. Where were they going anywhere? Oh, the booth. Right.  
  
_ He’s fucking beautiful _ . Of course he’s beautiful. Of course the universe would gift the royal pain in the ass she’s been warring with perfect looks. What else did she expect from the President of the First Order with that deep smooth voice? She should’ve known he’d be her own personal Adonis reincarnate just from their conversations alone.  
  
He’s tall, and broad, a tree of a man. His dress shirt looked like it’s fighting a losing battle to keep him clothed, stretched to its limits across his wide chest. The poor buttons. They deserve a participation medal just for trying. If he wasn’t dressed in a button up and slacks she would have assumed he was one of the bouncers.  
  
But his face, it was perfectly imperfect. Framed by a lush head of long raven hair and a well trimmed, utterly perfect goatee. A strong nose, plush lips, and a smattering of moles like constellations meant to be charted. There’s symmetry in his asymmetry. A harmony in the dissonant notes.   
  
But that’s all secondary because his eyes - his  _ eyes  _ are like looking into the depths of her own soul. She had registered a spark when their gazes met. Rey was tunnelled into him, frozen, anchored to the spot under his intense stare. His eyes were so sad and all knowing, like they’ve seen the expanse of the galaxy but hadn’t truly seen the light until the moment they met hers. They’re also the most perfect shades of brown, green and gold. A hazel that has officially become her textbook definition of said word.  
  
She’s not sure what happened next, only that she couldn’t breathe and probably made an utter fool of herself letting her jaw drop. And then there’s a flurry and a wave of bodies and a huge man is shoving her and Rose inside and it’s all over. She’s lost, adrift at sea. Her anchor has floated away and she’s being dragged off by the current.  
  
_ ‘Come back _ ’ her brain screams and her body cants in the opposite direction of where Rose is pulling her.  
  
“Rey! So glad you could make it. Ben just left. I would have loved to introduce you to the bane of our existence.”  
  
_ Huh?  
  
_ Hux. Armitage. Armie. He’s talking to her. Words don’t come, she’s in shock.  
  
“We ran into him briefly outside,” Rose rescues her.  
  
She’s not sure how she makes it through the evening or when her shock wears off, but she manages to put herself on autopilot. Smiling here, shaking a hand there, small talk slipping from her lips all while her mind is nowhere near where it should be. It was lost in a deep pool of hazel that had taken root in her conscience.  
  
Did ... did she smell cocoa and tobacco leaf outside? Her consciousness is marred with a spell of dizziness. It’s the vodka, she tells herself.

  
  


[x]

  
  


Maz is mewing at the front door, staring at the door handle. She’s been doing that since Saturday and it’s driving her bat-shit crazy. It’s not for lack of food, she’s picking at her bowl these days never really finishing a full scoop of kibble. Maybe she should call the vet.  _ Fuck, _ an unforseen expense.  
  
“Maz, mama come here. Come snuggle.”  
  
The cat turns her head to stare at Rey then turns back to stare at the door handle. Maybe she’s going stir crazy? But she’s always been an eat - sleep - knead - repeat kind of girl. No penchant for the outdoor life now that she’s enjoyed the fruits of being pampered indoors.  
  
Rey sighs dejectedly and puts the book down, flapping the throw off her and shuffling to the front door. Picking up her fur baby, she hoists her onto her shoulder nuzzling into the feline’s neck.  
  
“It’s alright Maz, I’m here. Whatever’s out there doesn’t matter as much as us.”  
  
Rocking gently and stroking Maz’s coarse fur, she makes her way back to the sofa while lavishing the cat with love until there’s the telltale rumble of purring. Distraction complete.  
  
The two settle back onto the sofa, Maz curled up next to her still purring but eyeing the door.  
  
Good. Now back to the Alchemist.

  
“ _ But maybe people who felt that way had never learned the universal language. Because, when you know that language, it’s easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether it’s in the middle of the desert or in some great city. And when two such people encounter each other, and their eyes meet, the past and the future become unimportant. There is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. _ ”

She takes a sharp inhale, there’s a throbbing in her chest. She’s too young for heart palpitations, right? No, it’s pain. She’s in pain, but there’s no wound.  _ What is that? _ It’s like a phantom pain, but it feels like …   
  
Like her heart is being ripped out of her chest. Like her ribs are being pulled apart, blowing her wide open. Like her soul is being crushed. Like  _ heartbreak _ .  
  
It’s strange, nothing happened to make her sad and yet she feels it wash over her. Like it isn’t her own, like it’s someone else's...  
  
_ ‘a line or verse will jump out at you that will utterly change your day. It applies to any situation, any mood, any feeling. It’s gotten me through a lot’  
  
_ Well I’ll be damned.

  
  


[x]

  
  


She hasn’t been feeling herself for weeks. That pain she felt has manifested. It lives in her chest now and it makes her feel numb, empty, unmoored. She feels like she’s floating in an ocean of loneliness with no life raft in sight. Except she didn’t know she was floating until weeks ago. Shit she’d never even seen the ocean.  
  
Everytime she tries to introspect, she sees a pair of sad eyes that hold the emotions of the universe in them and feels a heaviness overtake her. So she’s stopped trying.  
  
Instead of being social on this Friday night, not that she’s ever been social anyway, she’s foregone her usual self-care routine and is wrist deep in a tub of Cherry Garcia. The TV drones on in the background, the news anchor blabbering on about this petty crime or that feel-good story.  
  
Maz hasn’t been herself since either. She still sits and meows at the door like she’s waiting for someone. Rey should ask her neighbor about it, she’s studying to be a veterinary technician.   
  
She heaves a sigh. Because her spoon hit the bottom of the container yet she can’t remember the taste of a single spoonful she’s consumed. There’s a taste in her mouth, but it’s not Cherry Garcia. It tastes like sugar and milk, and maybe cherry, but it’s missing the telltale sign of satisfaction. She can taste the ingredients but not the result.  
  
There’s a sadness she carries around with her these days but it feels distinctly … not her own. Like she’s tethered to an unknown source and is steeping that pain. She really hopes that whoever she’s sharing this with at least feels somewhat better. That their burden is lightened by sharing it with her.  
  
“There’s not much to tell. We’ve partnered up with the raw pulp manufacturer Endor from South America who we’ve vetted for ethical sourcing. We chose them because their stock comes from bamboo. It’s easy and fast to grow and _because_ of that allows large amounts of pulp to be made on smaller sections of land. They rotate crops every 3 months, ensuring the soil gets a chance to regenerate and the pulp is soft enough for processing.”  
  
Her head whips up to the TV at the sound of a familiar voice. It’s him. Ben. He’s…  
  
 _Good for him._ Those PR pieces she wrote have really helped First Order take off. The app even offered her a chance to beta test their new biodegradable containers he’d told her about. She felt oddly proud getting her order in one.   
  
Rey had heard Leia talk about the influx of publicity they’ve had. How they’ve become a local sweetheart company and the press was eating up their every move. Clearly, because he’s doing an interview on HoloNet News. But ... he looks sad. Those eyes. Those _fucking eyes_.  
  
“That’s the dream isn’t it?” the offscreen reporter murmurs.  
  
At that he laughs. And _oh_ the angels are singing and her veins light afire and she feels a flutter in her chest. Why is he so _perfect?_ She hadn’t noticed it weeks ago because they’d only met so briefly, but he’s got dimples and these perfectly crooked teeth and he’s bashful and looks so genuinely sweet.  
  
 _Snap out of it! He’s the President of your biggest client. Besides, the project is done. He might as well be a stranger now.  
  
_ She deflates. Her inner voice is right. Get your shit together Rey, you’ve got a career to focus on and a very oddly behaved cat to deal with.

  
  
REY:  _ Wanna come over?  
  
_ JANNAH:  _ Sure, what’s up?  
  
_ REY:  _ Just wanted to ask you a question about feline behaviour. But I’ve got wine?  
  
_ JANNAH:  _ Say no more fam! _

That night Jannah told her Maz might be depressed.

  
  


[x]

  
  


Rey’s sitting in the lunchroom idly picking at her salad. Her focus has been off since that heaviness settled in her chest and became her new constant companion a month ago. Focusing on her work had become more difficult but she kept trudging along, forcing herself to behave normally.  
  
Her newest client, The Jedi Temple, a spiritual establishment on the outskirts of the city for rich kabbalah bracelet wearing enthusiasts that practice tantric breathing, is getting a new website & copy. But she just can’t get in the right headspace to formulate tone.  _ Fuck  _ she can’t even formulate a sentence, forget perceived cadence. And because of that, she spaces out, staring at the blinking cursor on her practically blank document. She stares well past her regular lunch hour.  
  
She supposes this may be a small blessing in disguise. Now she gets to take her lunch at the ungodly hour of 3:00 PM in perfect silence. It offers her the chance to not have to put on a mask for everyone.  
  
She intuitively knows  _ why _ she feels the way she feels. This illusion of pain. She knows it’s not her own, she’s clearly tethered to someone whose pain she feels completely. But  _ why _ ?  
  
The Alchemist is sitting beside her tupperware container, staring at her.   
  
_ ‘A line or a verse will jump out at you and utterly change your day … whenever I’m feeling down or lost, I’ll open a page randomly. Won’t even look, just close my eyes and let my fingers do the work. Somehow, on that page, there’ll be the answer.’ _   
  
What the hell.  
  
Rey picks up the book, balancing it gingerly between her fingers and closes her eyes. The pads of her fingers graze the pages lightly, settling at random and she twists her nail in to pry it open. Then, eyes still closed, she lets her index finger glide over the page until it stops. There, that’s the line.

  
“ _ Intuition is really a sudden immersion of the soul into the universal current of life. _ ”

Jesus  _ fucking _ Christ he’s right! The current of life. What has she tapped into? And when?  
  
“Rey?”  
  
Shit. It’s the General. No, Mrs. Organa. No,  _ Leia _ , call her Leia before she rips your head off.  
  
“Umm, hi. Hi - hello Leia.”  
  
“Interesting book you’re reading.”  
  
_ What on God’s green earth does she want?  
  
_ “Yeah. I’ve been chipping away at it slowly, but someone told me it’s got a way of providing guidance. Figured I’d give it a try.”  
  
Leia smiles, “now where would you hear such a thing?”  
  
“Uhh… just, s-someone.”  
  
“Well. I know someone who swears by that book. That boy treats it like damn deck of tarot cards.”  
  
_ That boy?  
  
_ “I see…”  
  
“I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch. Just thought your choice of reading material is a bit … serendipitous.”  
  
_ What the fuck? _

  
  


[x]

  
  


Her feet are pounding on the asphalt. Have been for the past half hour.   
  
She’s out for an early morning run to get in the right headspace. The weather has been getting progressively balmier and she can finally,  _ finally _ indulge in an outdoor run. The treadmill in her apartment building’s gym has been killing her ankles and knees (and eyes, the motion aftereffect makes her dizzy). The sun rising is the icing on the cake, bathing the quiet neighborhood in a warm orange glow.  
  
She’s almost at the park. There she’ll turn around and run the 6 km back home. 

_  
  
“What did you do to Greedo?”  
  
_ _ “Nothing he didn’t deserve.”  
  
_ _ “You know he threatened to quit selling for us? He threatened straight to Kylo?”  
  
_ _ “And?”  
  
_ _ “And nothing. Just thought you should know. Guy’s got your back.”  
  
_ _ They’re quiet for a moment. What the fuck does Cardo want her to say to that? ‘Oh thank you Mr. Kylo Ren, epic terror and bearer of my wet dreams, thank you for having my back’?  
  
_ _ “Just…” Cardo sighs, “he said some things about you. I just want you to know that, regardless of all of this, you’re like family to us.”  
  
_ _ She scoffed at that. Family. It’s a fucking business and she’d be a fool to think otherwise. The minute she makes a mistake she has no doubt Kylo Ren will show up at the door of her rooming house and slice her into stewing bits with that knife of his. She’d be naive to think she could find family in a notorious gang.  
  
_ _ “What did that degenerate say about me anyway?”  
  
_ _ Conversations are difficult. She works extra hard to mask her accent. Because one slip could give away her identity and she’d prefer to compartmentalize this temporary diversion off her chosen path. That’s why she’s refused to go with Cardo to the House of Ren. That’s why she refuses to have a drink with him, with  _ them,  _ ever. That’s why she’d told Cardo her name was Kira. That’s why all their meetings are strictly business. So strict she prepares for them hours in advance, practicing rolling her R’s and beating c-ehn-t into her brain instead of her accented c-aan-t.  
  
_ _ “Just. It was personal.”  
  
_ _ "When is it ever not personal with that guy?”  
  
_ _ Cardo laughs then. He’s really a nice guy. Drugs and all aside he reminds her a bit of herself. Just a lonely soul that had limited life choices and made the best of them. She briefly wonders if the rest of them are like that too. If Kylo Ren is like that too.  
  
_ _ “Well, it’s been a slice, Kira. I’ve got to get going. Big meeting at the clubhouse.”  
  
_ _ “Text me about the next drop off. I’ll organize with the local dealers.”  
  
_ _ “Will do. You really should come visit one of these days.”  
  
_ _ But she doesn’t. Because later that night, 2 hours away, the House of Ren lights up the sky. An explosion. No survivors.  
  
  
_ Pity, she thinks to herself as she wipes her forehead. Cardo was a good guy, maybe they’d all been if she’d only gotten to know them better. She’s rounding the corner to her building slowing for her cool down.  
  
If that brief period in her life taught her anything, it’s to live like it’s your last moment. Shit, that night was the last of Cardo’s and Kylo’s. It was also the night she rose from their ashes, their accident set her free.  
  
A Phoenix rising.

[x]

  
  


“Cheers,” Finn incants.  
  
3 glasses of mimosas clink over the chic rooftop patio table of Varykino, an ultra-hip brunch spot in downtown Coruscant. Poe picked it.  
  
“To a successful 6 week post launch and good friends,” Poe raises his glass.  
  
“To having two dolts for friends,” Rey adds cheerfully.  
  
There’s a bout of laughter shared between them as they sip their mimosas and wait for their food. Finn and Poe are hungover thanks to another successful evening at The Empire. They look it too. Poe’s aviator sunglasses cover up the worst of the damage but Finn’s eyes are bloodshot and he looks about ready to die.  
  
“Do you two ever get tired of going to that dump?”  
  
“Never,” Poe huffs.  
  
“How dare you incite…” Finn jests at the same time.  
  
Two plates heaping with western omelettes and generous portions of bread, bacon, and home fries are set in front of the hungover duo. A plate of french toast is placed before Rey.  
  
“You know, with the amount of time you two spend there, they should start paying you a salary.”  
  
“That’s not a bad idea!”  
  
“Poe! Wouldn’t that be conflict of interest?”  
  
“Nonesense. Rey’s right. I’ll ask to speak to the manager.”  
  
“Pfft. Whatever you say ...  _ Karen _ .”  
  
She grunts out a strangled laugh, “only if you want to be beaten to a pulp. Those type of places may make a business out of entertainment, but management is never in it  _ for _ entertainment.”  
  
“And how would you know?”  
  
“Oh come on, like I’ve never been to a nightclub before. Besides, I tend to drink just enough to take the edge off, yet remain lucid. I’ve managed to observe things here and there…”  
  
The two stare at her like she’s sprouted a second head.  
  
“You see, boys,” she stuffs a maple syrup soaked piece of toast into her mouth, “that’s how I manage to curb the hangover … I don’t over do it.”  
  
“OK boomer.”  
  
That brought on another peal of laughter.  
  
“Seriously though guys, you’re there every week. How have you not found your … you know … soulmates?”  
  
Poe and Finn look at each other. Like they hadn’t given  _ that _ aspect much thought. Maybe now they’ll come clean and tell her that they’re actually each other’s soulmates. She’d pay handsomely for  _ that _ admission.  
  
Finn looks down at his plate glumly, “I … I don’t know.”  
  
Poe looks just as abject.  
  
“What if your soulmates are hermits like me?”  
  
Poe nods. He’s deep in thought … or is he spacing out? She can’t tell.  
  
He’s rubbing the back of his neck while Finn’s gaze shifts from his over-buttered toast to his forearm.   
  
“What about you? Aren’t you glad you don’t have to deal with this soulmate crap?”  
  
Ha. She laughs out loud.  _ Again! _ How has she existed for the last 2 years at this company without ever sharing her secret? It’s like for the first time in her life she can see, clearly, just how much she’s closed herself off.  
  
The pain she’s been carrying around has brought her an odd sense of peace, of clarity. Because whatever she’s been struggling with is  _ nothing _ in comparison to this chasm that’s opened inside her.  
  
“Actually, I  _ do _ have one.”  
  
Poe and Finn turn to each other, brows furrowed.  
  
“It’s alright, Rose didn’t know either. Turns out I’ve been keeping secrets. You guys wanna see?”  
  
They both nod emphatically.  
  
“Well don’t be shy, come here.”  
  
She gestures for them to get up. They do. Soulmate marks are that taboo conversation topic everyone leans into. It’s private and  _ oh so juicy _ .  
  
Once settled behind her, she stands up and lifts up the hem of her T-Shirt using her other hand to lower the waistband of her athletic leggings.   
  
“Tadaaa,” she reveals cheerily.  
  
“Wow! That's new.”  
  
“Jesus. I feel like a tool!”  
  
“Well, now you know.”

  
  


[x]

  
  


Today is a hard day for Rey. It’s been hard her entire life. It’s Mother’s Day.  
  
While other children were making macaroni pictures or drawing tulips for their mothers, Rey was sulking in the corner, or worse, quietly crying while being forced to partake in the activity.   
  
These types of hallmark holidays always hit the hardest. She has no one to call her own. No family to impart smiles, wisdom, hugs,  _ love _ . While everyone is spending their days with their mothers, Rey is wishing hers hadn’t rejected her.  
  
She throws herself back on her bed. Today she’s going to completely and utterly ignore her loneliness. One day she’ll find her soulmate and then she won’t be alone, right?  
  
What if he doesn’t want her? What if it was Mr. Cocoa and tobacco leaf and ginger? What if he knows exactly who she is but wants nothing to do with an orphaned ex-drug runner? What if she’s disappointed him before they even met and he can’t bear to even look at her? Isn’t that why she hasn’t smelled that elusive scent since?  
  
A wave of pain rips through her chest. This one definitely her own.   
  
It’s become almost a daily habit now, looking for positivity in the pages of a book. She grabs the Alchemist from her nightstand and flips it open at random.  
  
There.  
  
  
“ _ I have inside me the winds, the deserts, the oceans, the stars, and everything created in the universe. We were all made by the same hand, and we have the same soul. _ ”

_ Thank you Coelho.  
  
_ Despite everything that’s broken in her life, she’s still made up of beautiful shards. She’s stronger than this heartache and she’ll rise out of its ashes.   
  
The pain doesn’t subside.

  
  


[x]

  
  


It’s been 2 months since the PRs went live. 2 months since she’s talked to Ben, the guy she can’t seem to excise from her mind. 2 months since the dull, numbing pain had taken root inside her.  
  
She walked to work wearing her favourite black skinny jeans, a white boatneck tee, and a white blazer. It’s still early but she’d gotten up, gone for her run, showered and even made a cup of coffee to go. Today is the last Monday of May and she’s  _ going _ to have an amazing summer. She’s  _ going _ to wash this pain off her, one way or another.  
  
She walks with a pep in her step to her desk, sipping her coffee contentedly. No one is here save herself and a few other early risers.  
  
In her inbox sits an email from Leia sent Sunday evening.

——

From:  leiaorgana@rebelmediagroup.com  
To:  staff@rebelmediagroup.com  
Subject: First Order Meeting

Good morning all,  
  
I trust you’ve had a wonderful weekend. We’ll be meeting in the boardroom this morning at 9:00 AM sharp. I have a big announcement for us.

  
Sincerely,  
  
Leia Organa  
President Rebel Media Group

——


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s just so hard.”
> 
> “That’s what she said.”
> 
> _“You’re not helping!”_
> 
> _“I’m sorry Ben,” Hux clears his throat, “I’ll be serious. But why don’t you tell me what’s really wrong?”_
> 
> _He doesn’t tell him what’s wrong. Because he can’t. Because he himself doesn’t know. What’s he supposed to say?_
> 
> _I thought I found the one but it turns out I deluded myself and yet I can’t move on because my heart is screaming that it’s her?_
> 
> _He just gets up and walks away. It’s an out of body experience, walking out of the boardroom, out of the building. Away from his friend. He’s not really himself. The other half of his soul is missing and he can feel whatever little sliver of hope he’d had slowly dying._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is Ben’s POV. Timeline is the same as Rey’s in the last chapter so be mindful of the time jumps. We’re covering 2 months worth of his pain train.
> 
> I’d like to make a few notes here: firstly, I want to thank every single one of you that’s hopped on this slow burn train with me and put up with the torture I’m dragging these babies through. Secondly, I draw a lot of my inspiration from real life, where gratification doesn’t come instantly, where you have to work for what you want. So if it’s moving along a little slowly, it’s because of that. I take a lot of cues from books like Anna Karenina or The Handmaid’s Tale, pieces that find beauty in mundane details to build to a beautiful crest. I find they heighten the experience for me (the reader) and make it all worthwhile when the pieces tie together. Having said that, I also understand that the concept of fiction is meant to be a release from every day. A fantasy world. So … if you’re dying for them to meet (and they will), give our little journey two days. Chapter 14 is where it’s at.

The shower head is set to high, scalding hot water beats down on his head, his neck, his back. He’s painfully hard but doesn’t trust himself to rub one out, not in his current state. His heart won’t allow him to spoil her like that, because he  _ knows _ he’ll be thinking of her. Her hazel eyes burned into the backs of his retinae. It’s all he sees when his eyes are open, closed, when all he’s trying to do is  _ not _ think of them.  
  
He’d all but scratched his eyeballs out walking home. He’d wanted to smash his head into the elevator doors, give himself a concussion and hopefully wipe them out before he committed them to long term memory. Luck was not on his side though. Instead he’d guzzle half a bottle of whiskey, downing it like water to dull the ache and jumped in the shower.  
  
He lets the water burn his skin, mottling his pastiness with red splotches. Willing it to burn off the disappointment, the pain, the  _ completely _ inappropriate arousal.   
  
_  
“You’ve got to meet the girl.”  
  
_ _ “The girl? What girl?”   
  
_ _ “The Scavenger. Kira. She’s stealthy. Would make a great addition to the team.”  
  
_ _ “We don’t need any more knights. We need the ones we have to exercise better control over their territories.”  
  
_ _ Cardo takes the last swig of his beer, slapping the dancer’s ass as she takes his empty. Kylo Ren is leaning against the corner of the bar closest to the back offices, his motorcycle helmet sealed tight over his head, getting his report on developments in the south. The helmet only comes off in private or during very rare one-on-one meetings with the knights. It’s how he protects his identity and hides his face which gives him away too much. ‘Too expressive’ as his mother would say.  
  
_ _ “Since she’s taken over from Plutt we’ve doubled profits in the area. You know the guy was making his foster kids bag the product? What a piece of shit. Anyway, it’s worth meeting her at least.”  
  
_ _ Kylo cocks his head at the knight, beckoning him to continue.  
  
_ _ “I’m just saying. She has a way of placating the dealers  _ and _ she’s ruthless. Should have seen what she did to one guy. He came complaining to me but…” Cardo pops open another beer, “turns out he’d been screwing us out of profits, cutting the product. She busted him, then busted up his face. Showed me how much he was skimming on her ledger.”  
  
_ _ The knight downs half the bottle smugly, then turns to Kylo.  
  
_ _ “She beat the shit out of him. With a fucking hiking stick. Apparently that’s her weapon of choice.”  
  
_ _ “So she’s volatile.”  
  
_ _ “In the best way.”  
  
_ _ The numbers didn’t lie. Profits in the south had just about doubled and he hadn’t heard a peep from dealers or law enforcement. She was efficient. That much he knew. But he also knew she was young. He’d given Cardo a verbal beat down when he found out she was only 18 at the time of recruitment.  
  
_ _ “Fine. Next drop off we ride together.”  
  
_ _ And they did. He stood back and watched it happen. She was a skinny thing. Looked broken too. Then again, kids her age didn’t agree to distribute hard drugs if they had other choices. She was just so small and sad looking but there was a fierce determination in her stance. He didn’t get to see her face but felt her energy. Her clothes were tattered and worn, like she’d fished the threadbare hoodie 3 sizes too big out of the nearest dumpster. But, she was a fighter, he could tell by the way she stood stock still though she trembled in his presence. _

That’s why he’d burned down the bar 4 years ago, wasn’t it? Seeing that broken girl awoke something in him. He inherently knew what it was like to have nothing, to feel like a life of crime was the only way out. That night something awoke in him, he’d start plotting a way to end the Knights of Ren. He’d set her free and himself too, if fate allowed it.  
  
Ben went to bed that night piss drunk with a raging boner.

  
  


[x]

  
  


“Solo? I have Tano from HoloNet on line 2.” Mitaka barges into his office flustered. He must have run from the second floor because he looks absolutely  _ wrecked _ . All pink cheeks, hunched over heaving in lungfuls of air. Ben makes a mental note to invite him for his morning runs.  
  
“What do they want?”  
  
“To set up an interview for the news at 6.”  
  
Ben closes the report he’s not really reading and gestures for Mitaka to sit down. The man has the good sense to at least close the door before he leans over Ben’s desk to take the call on speaker.  
  
“Mister Solo? Hi, my name is Ahsoka Tano, I’m a journalist with HoloNet.”  
  
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance Mrs. Tano.”  
  
“I won’t take up much time. Your company has been making waves online recently. We’d like to pick up your story, bring in a crew for some interviews and show our viewers around your compound. Would you be willing to host us for a few days?”  
  
Ben looks at Mitaka who’s nodding emphatically. Yes,  _ yes _ a resounding YES. His CMO is all but vibrating at the free marketing opportunity.   
  
“Of course. I’ll let our CMO here take care of the details with you.”  
  
He picks up the report and, without a word, lets himself out of his office. The hallways are abuzz with excitement. The PR work his mother deployed is a hit. Mitaka and his assistant Zorii have been inundated with requests for interviews, on-site visits, sponsorship opportunities, and sales pitches. The situation, he gathers, is a marketer’s dream. Mitaka is finally in his element, doing what he was all but born to do.  
  
Pryde is constantly sending him bar graphs showcasing their steady financial gains and he’s started to include  _ happy faces _ in his emails. Pryde, happy faces - what alternate universe did he get blown into?  
  
Fuck, even Hux has been walking around with a pep in his step.   
  
There’s a slew of reporters at their gates from dawn till dusk these days, so much so they’ve mandated staff enter through the back to avoid harassment. He’s actually had to double security on site and add a blockade to their parking lot. A fact that Pryde seemed to both love and hate - it meant profits, it also meant more expenses.  
  
Ben rounds the corner to the small staircase leading up to the rooftop. When he’d bought the building he wanted to create a rooftop sanctuary for employees to enjoy their lunches. A lush garden to act as a mid-day retreat when they needed a moment of peace. He’d hired an urban landscape architect to figure out logistics for grass, shrubs, trees and even a koi pond. They’d spent countless hours cooped up in the unfinished boardroom working and reworking irrigation plans, the building’s structural integrity for the weight, reviewing hardiness to ensure successful growth. The entire place was a miniature park hoisted atop the First Order building, an urban oasis.  
  
Except either no one knew about it, or didn’t give a single fuck because it mostly stood empty.  
  
Spring is in full bloom and the warm air marks no temperature change as he steps out. He finds a table, nestled between two dwarf japanese maples, to sit down and continue  _ trying  _ to read the report.  
  
But he can’t. His heart has been dead weight for the last 2 weeks. It wars with his head,  _ it’s her _ \- his heart screams.  _ It can’t be _ , his brain argues back. Emptiness courses through him while he’s assaulted with visions of the prettiest hazel eyes.  
  
He’s been an empty shell and he sees no light at the end of the tunnel. Convinced now he’ll forever be alone. Unmoored, he’s resigned himself to letting the proverbial ocean of loneliness take him. Maybe, if he’s lucky, a lone shark will come finish him off.   
  
So he just leans his head back and watches the clouds go by for the rest of the afternoon.

  
  


[x]

  
  


Chewie is cowering under the dining room table. There’s a broken vase, a toppled planter and a smashed lamp. The smell of spilt whiskey permeates his nostrils. Bits of dirt mixed with shards of glass strewn over his otherwise immaculate hardwood floors.  
  
He’s drunk and he’s fucking  _ livid. _

——

From: john@snokeassociates.com   
To: b.solo@firstorder.com   
Subject: Return on Investment

Ren,  
  
Peavy and Canady have served me with buyback options. I must say the format is a bit reminiscent of a drug deal. Are you too much a coward to serve these yourself? Preferring your gang of knights do your dirty work?  
  
Must be nice to be the ringleader, if only in name.  
  
I look forward to discussing this in person. My answer to your buyout is a resounding  _ no _ .

J. Snoke

——

He’s read the email 3 times, and his reaction gets worse every time. The first time he’d just cursed a string of colourful expletives. The second he’d smashed his whiskey bottle against the wall. By the third he’d gone awol and destroyed a few belongings in a blind fit of rage.  
  
It’s a warning. The piece of shit is blackmailing him. He’s all but mentioned the Knights of Ren. How the  _ fuck _ does he know? The only ones who do are Hux and his parents. Everyone else thinks Kylo Ren perished with the rest of the knights in that fire.   
  
This just became  _ much _ more complicated. He knows the company has every right to buy back its shares. The lawyers had assured him vehemently that was the case. Especially with no board. The decision came from the company which was in its right faculties to do so, should it choose. And  _ choose _ it did.   
  
Instead of attempting to formulate a plan or responding, he forwards the email to Hux with a simple  _ ‘figure it out’ _ . He also texts the front desk for a maid service while he drunkenly staggers to bed.

  
  


[x]

  
  


The lights are blinding. Have been for the last hour he’s been talking to the reporter. Ahsoka Tano is nice enough, intuitive even. Conversation with her is easy but the constant interruption of hair and make up, the bright studio lights, and the heat of said lights is grating his last nerve. He doesn’t know if he can take another interruption for some patsy to powder his fucking nose. Let his face glisten. No one’s going to care anyway. His soulmate doesn’t.  
  
He lets out a dejected groan as  _ more _ stinking powder gets pressed on his face.  _ How the hell do you even get this shit off after?  
  
_ “We have makeup wipes right there,” the makeup artist murmurs pointing at a small table. Did he say that out loud?  
  
“Ok Mr. Solo, tell us about the new green initiative you’ve rolled out.”  
  
“There’s not much to tell. We’ve partnered up with the raw pulp manufacturer Endor from South America who we’ve vetted for ethical sourcing. We chose them because their stock comes from bamboo. It’s easy and fast to grow and  _ because _ of that allows large amounts of pulp to be made on smaller sections of land. They rotate crops every 3 months, ensuring the soil gets a chance to regenerate and the pulp is soft enough for processing.”  
  
“Do they also manufacture the containers?”  
  
“No, those are made locally by Ajan Kloss. We pay to import the pulp to their facility across town where they press our newly patented take-out containers.”  
  
“How have business owners taken to this change?”  
  
“We’ve had 100% acceptance rate from all restaurants in our network. It’s shaved off their overheads providing them with containers they’re free to use for any takeout, First Order or not.”  
  
“Have you had any consumer feedback?”  
  
“We’ve beta tested the containers for viability on a small local market. There’s nothing worse than a soggy takeout package so we made sure they’re sturdy, which they are. So … to answer your question. 100% approval rating from consumers, beta and beyond.”  
  
“That’s the dream isn’t it?”  
  
At that he laughs. A genuine laugh because it’s true. Major roll-outs like this  _ always _ come with problems. Or at least  _ some _ backlash. 100% acceptance from  _ both _ sides is practically unheard of. He’s basically got a horseshoe up his ass when it comes to business. If only he could say the same for his search…  
  
“So what’s next for First Order?”  
  
“Well, we’re looking at expansion. We’re also testing biodegradable cutlery with Ajan Kloss and the results thus far seem promising.”  
  
“Any other initiatives you’d like the public to know about?”  
  
“Actually, yes. First Order is looking at implementing some community based recycling programs. We’d like to start locally and are currently looking for volunteers. So for anyone interested in participating, I’d ask you to email  volunteer@forecycling.com . That’s volunteer at F - O - Recycling dot com. And if you’d like to learn more about the initiatives, visit forecycling.com. Again, F - O - Recycling dot com.”  
  
“Thank you for your time Mr. Solo. As you can see, our local gem of a company is taking a proactive approach to creating a more sustainable future. If you’d like to learn more about their initiatives or the First Order, visit  www.firstorder.com or visit our website  www.holo.net for exclusive behind the scenes interviews and content from First Order. This is Ahsoka Tano for HoloNet news.”  
  
The red camera light goes off and the intense lights dim.  
  
“Thank you again Mr. Solo. It’s really refreshing to see local companies give a damn about communities and the environment.”  
  
Ben just nods and walks out of the room, grabbing the pack of makeup wipes as he passes. He needs a drink.

  
  


[x]

  
  


“Orders are up 45% in the last week since HoloNet aired the series on us,” Mitaka is pressing the clicker to change the presentation slide. Ben is dozing at the head of the table while Pryde and Hux are beaming at the line graph on display.  
  
“You can see here,” he uses the laser pointer to highlight the steep upward curve, “that it’s steadily increased in the last month since the PRs went live.”  
  
“Well done old chap!” Pryde beams at him.  
  
“We’ll need to engage Rebel for social media management. Or hire someone in house. The inquiries and interactions on social channels are increasing beyond what Zorii and I can handle. Or were you able to apply for that intern grant?”  
  
Ben’s not listening. He doesn’t even understand why Mitaka is turning this into a presentation for fucks sake. It’s just the 4 of them. Give him a clean 2 page report with the data and let him waste away in peace.  
  
He’s hunched forward over the boardroom table, his head leaned into his palms like dead weight. A loud groan escapes him.  
  
Hux turns to him, a concerned look flashes across his expression before hardening back to normal.  
  
“Thank you Dopheld. Can you send us the PDF so we can review the remainder later?”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Thank God for small mercies. Mitaka turns off the projector, turns on the lights and files out with Pryde. They’re all blessedly in tune with Hux who, in turn, is blessedly tuned in to Ben’s emotional ebb and flow.  
  
When the coast is clear and they’re all alone, his friend’s carefully schooled expression disintegrates and only concern is visible on his face.  
  
“What’s wrong Ben?”  
  
“I want … I just …” a sigh, “I can’t.”  
  
“Is it about your soulmate? What happened? You were so hopeful at the club and then … you haven’t been yourself since. Why won’t you talk to me about it?”  
  
He lets his head fall to the table, burying his face into his folded arms.  
  
“I  _ don’t know _ Armitage. I just don’t know anymore.”  
  
“It’s ok,” he hears him say soothingly, a tone that’s too gentle, he has trouble associating it with his childhood friend, “we’ll find her. Don’t worry!”  
  
“How? Ever since this media circus I get assaulted daily. Do you know how hard it is to focus on her when all these … these … floozies try to hang off you?”  
  
It’s true. The increased media attention and Mitaka’s careful management of it have led to rampant articles making assumptions about them. More specifically, himself. One questionable (but wildly popular) online publication had gone to call him Coruscant’s most eligible bachelor.  _ That _ made him target numero uno for … well, anyone looking for a meal ticket. It was like having concrete poured into his shoes, good luck finding her now Ben!  
  
Just this morning he’d gone to get coffee and a woman literally tried to rub up against his crotch in the lineup, then had the audacity to slip him her business card with a lewd grin. She was a realtor. He _was_ planning on leaving her a bad review on Google for that embarrassing display, if he found the energy, that is.  
  
“ _ Floozies _ ? Where did you go, the 1950s? Must be so tough having all that pussy thrown at you,” Hux quips, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
Ha. Cause pussy is soulmate. Clearly interchangeable words, textbook synonyms.  
  
“It’s just so hard.”  
  
“That’s what she said.”  
  
“You’re not helping!”  
  
“I’m sorry Ben,” Hux clears his throat, “I’ll be serious. But why don’t you tell me what’s really wrong?”  
  
He doesn’t tell him what’s wrong. Because he can’t. Because he himself doesn’t know. What’s he supposed to say?  
  
_ I thought I found  _ the one _ but it turns out I deluded myself and yet I can’t move on because my heart is  _ screaming  _ that it’s  _ her?  
  
He just gets up and walks away. It’s an out of body experience, walking out of the boardroom, out of the building. Away from his friend. He’s not really himself. The other half of his soul is missing and he can feel whatever little sliver of hope he’d had slowly dying.

  
  


[x]

  
  


Chewie is pissing on the 3rd fire hydrant. After he’s marked a good 6 trees and at least 2 dozen shrubs. Where the old furball is finding the reserves he doesn’t know, but the canine is leading this walk, who in turn, is being led by his nose. Ben can’t be bothered to train or command so he just lets Chewie do his thing, yanking him hither and thither.   
  
The air is warm. A telltale summer current is starting to creep in and the spring rains have slowed, allowing longer periods of balmy weather to take root. This is Chewie’s favourite time of year, though he’s been as morose as Ben since that fated night. He stares at the door more often, sleeps more, like he’s depressed. After a winter of being cooped up and quick business outings with himself or Jannah, it's nice to let Chewie’s nose do what it does best, he seems almost happier.  
  
_  
“She broke my fucking nose with her stupid stick. The woman is a menace! If you want me to sell for you I suggest you find a new runner because I’m out.”  
  
_ _ “Are you forgetting, Greedo, that you’re indebted to us for those two shipments you lost a year ago?”  
  
_ _ He’s brandishing his knife, running it against the hot leather of his glove.  
  
_ _ It’s hot as balls in this hell hole. Jakku, armpit of the south. The place is about as pleasurable as genital warts, not that he has experience with that.  
  
_ _ This dealer has made it a point to complain to Cardo. They’re here because the degenerate had the balls to request an audience with the Master of Ren. Like the knights weren’t aware he was skimming.  
  
_ _ “The Scavenger is a piece of shit orphan. She can barely feed herself. You think she cares about your precious cargo? I do.”  
  
_ _ “Careful Greedo,” Cardo Ren warns.  
  
_ _ “No, I’m tired of that fucking street rat violating me. Get rid of her, or I’m done.”  
  
_ _ Kylo Ren is flipping his blade in the air now, twisting it with deadly precision. It’s his preferred intimidation tactic.   
  
_ _ “And what does  _ any of that _ have to do with how our product moves? Far as I’m concerned, she’s keeping this corner in check.”  
  
_ _ For good measure, he stabs the knife into the hood of Greedo’s beat up car, slicing the metal smoothly, like butter.  
  
_ _ “You see, Greedo, the way I see it?  _ Kira _ is worth more to me than you. I’d be careful making threats.”  
  
_ _ The dealer audibly gulps, his throat bobbing like a fishing lure. That was it. Intimidation complete. Greedo nodded taking off.  
  
_ _ Greedo’s words had stung. His skinny little scavenger was an orphan, could barely feed herself. Why those words touched his heart, he didn’t know.   
  
_ _ He left alone, Cardo going off to meet Kira to organize the next drop off. Except there wouldn’t be one.  
  
_ _ That was the night he’d set the strip joint on fire and bar the exits. _

  
  


[x]

  
  


It’s been 6 weeks since the PRs went live. He’s long since given up on going into the office. He can’t stand going outside anymore. There’s a constant barrage of people hounding him for money, a relationship, an interview, advice, mentorship, a quick fuck. It’s exhausting.  
  
He’s given up on the outside world, choosing to hole himself up in his penthouse. He’d passed dog walks back to Jannah who didn’t seem to mind the uptick in income. He’s also given up on pants. But he hasn’t given up on his fitness routine. No. Usually in the mornings, when he’s still lucid, he’ll go to the condo gym and run at a full sprint until he’s on the verge of puking. Then lift weights until he’s  _ definitely _ puking.  
  
That all goes to shits by noon at which point he’s usually,  _ definitely _ , drunk. His meals have started consisting of protein shakes in the morning and pure whiskey for the remainder of the day. He can’t even have his favourite take out anymore. It reminds him too much of  _ her _ .

——

From:e.pryde@firstorder.com   
To: b.solo@firstorder.com   
Subject: CONFIDENTIAL: Buyout

Ben,  
  
Attached you’ll find the final offer that will be served alongside an injunction on June 1. We have confirmation from the courts we are within our rights to seek legal action should he deny.   
  
In 3 weeks it’s done. Whether we pay or we win them back in court will be determined based on the VC’s actions. :)

  
Enric.

——

Hux is a fucking genius. So is Pryde. He should promote them. Oh wait, he can’t, can he? What’s above C level?  
  
Doesn’t matter. One problem is sorting itself out. It’ll be sent out in 3 weeks, at the beginning of June. He throws himself back on the sofa, scrolling through his phone to place a delivery order for 5 bottles of Corelian whiskey.

  
  


[x]

  
  


“Ben you look awful.”  
  
“And a Happy Mother’s Day to you Ma.”  
  
His mother hugs him tightly, taking the planted pot of a large blue and purple dappled orchids from him.  
  
“These are very thoughtful Ben. I’m glad I have your admiration and respect.”  
  
Of course his mother would pick up on the meaning. She’s the one who imparted the silent language of floral arrangements on him. This one was just easy though he won’t admit that to her. He’d picked it up the night before at the grocery store downstairs on a whim in a rare attempt to reintegrate himself into the real world.  
  
He’d taken the Silencer for the half hour drive out of the city to visit his parents. His mother ushers him into the sunroom of his family’s estate. It’s set up perfectly for a mother’s day brunch with pink satin ribbonned chairs, a crisp white table cloth, the casual china, her precious Royal Daulton tea cups, and a grand center piece of tulips.  
  
Behind him, his father walks in holding a tray of french toast.  
  
“Hey kid! Glad you could make it.”  
  
“Dad.”  
  
Their relationship hadn’t been much better than that with his mother. When he was younger his father would take him on archeological trips, imparting worldly wisdom. It was a thrilling lifestyle, he had wanted to be an archeologist just like his dad. Seeing the past, delving into history, it had given him a sense of belonging. As he got older though, his mother insisted he needed to focus on more practical career choices. That halted his trips and strained his relationship with his father. Han would be off for months at a time while his mother worked around the clock. The change in pace had effectively left Ben with his emotions and nannies. A dangerous combination for an already overly-emotional child. A combination that would push his mother to force him into his uncle’s convoluted spiritual teachings.  
  
“Here, take these and put them on the table kid. I gotta grab something.”  
  
With that his father pushes the tray of french toast at him and disappears.  
  
_ Typical.  _ He’s most probably going to lock himself in his office with his artifacts for the remainder of the day leaving him alone to be scrutinized by his mother.  
  
“How’s the hunt going son?”  
  
He sighs, gingerly placing the tray on the table. Not now, please for the love of God not now. Two maids file in to lay out the rest of the brunch menu. Setting about a spinach & gruyere quiche, a large bowl of mixed fruits, a carafe of coffee, fresh baguette and croissants, a peach tart, a pitcher of freshly pressed orange juice and a bucket of champagne on ice.  
  
“Ben?”  
  
“Not now Ma.”  
  
She’s uncorking a bottle of Moet before the maids have even left. It’s her mimosa standard because she refuses to drink champagne that’s not  _ actually _ from Champagne, France. A sentiment he can actually agree with. The other stuff is just awful, too sweet and not bubbly enough. Proper champagne strikes the perfect balance. Though when you’re diluting its exquisite taste with run of the mill OJ, does it really fucking matter what grapes were sacrificed?  
  
“Is that why you look like shit?”  
  
He groans, swiping his hand across his face.  
  
“I just … my heart won’t … functionally speaking I’m...”  
  
“Spit it out Ben.”  
  
“I … I’m not looking anymore. I can’t. I had this feeling and now it’s … I’m numb.”  
  
A wave of pain washes over him, pulling the air clean out of his lungs. He knows there’s no physical threat or wound but the feeling is visceral. Admitting defeat to himself is one thing, giving it words was acceptance on a whole new level. It makes it real. It means that’s it - his destiny is to be alone, a broken half-soul. And yet, the pang doesn’t feel like his own. It feels other-worldly, like he can feel another’s pain. It feels deeper than defeat, more like …  _ loneliness _ ?  _ Rejection _ ?  
  
His mother nods thoughtfully, all the while pouring herself a generous glass of champagne and adding a splash of orange juice.  
  
“Does this have anything to do with Rey?”  
  
_ For fucks sake why won’t she drop it? Can I lose my shit on Mother’s Day? No, that’s not acceptable etiquette.  
  
_ His father saves him from the awkward exchange.  
  
“Here we are. This is for you Ben.”  
  
He places a small, triangular device in his hand. It’s old, looks ancient actually. Some weird looking protractor of sorts.  
  
“It’s a sextant. Old mariners used it as a wayfinder.”  
  
He stares at his father dumbly.   
  
“I’m giving it to you to help you find your way, kid. You know what you have to do. Hopefully this’ll help you find the strength to do it - follow your heart.”  
  
_ God he loves his dad.  
  
_ They have a peaceful Mother’s Day brunch, skirting the topic of his soulmate entirely.

  
  


[x]

  
  


It’s been 8 weeks since the PRs went live. He’s been holed up at home for almost a month now. But his father’s gift from Sunday has for some unknown reason broken through his numbness. It’s given him a sliver of hope when he’d had all but given up. A lifeline in a raging storm.  
  
Maybe he doesn’t have to drown. Maybe he doesn’t have to remain afloat in an ocean of loneliness. Maybe … maybe he  _ should _ listen to his heart.  
  
“You called me over to stand in your gym attire and stare out the window?”  
  
Hux is here. It’s a Wednesday evening and the sun is setting over Coruscant. He’d sent him a text requesting his presence. It was time to ask for help.  
  
“No, I want to talk about Rebel. Mitaka has been hounding me for weeks for help with social. I need you to organize that. And … we’ll need their help with the global rollout, so that too.”  
  
Hux nods, taking a small sip of his whiskey. He walks slowly to stand beside Ben, looking out the window standing stick straight. His eyes fixed to a point on the horizon.  
  
“That’s not all is it?”  
  
_ Is he that fucking obvious? _   
  
“No,” he starts carefully, unsure where to start, “I … Weeks ago you asked me what was wrong. I couldn’t say because I didn’t know.”  
  
His friend nods, his lips quirk like he’s been patiently waiting for this moment and it’s about to arrive.  
  
“I … I thought I knew who it was. I was so sure but then … it wasn’t. And yet I can’t help…”  
  
He can’t finish that sentence again, all his earlier resolve flying out the window.  _ Sayonara Ben, it’s been a slice _ .   
  
Instead he drains his tumbler then stumbles to the counter, pours another and downs that too. The alcohol burning down his throat blanketing his mind in a foggy haze.  
  
“Your heart won’t let it go,” Hux finally finishes for him, impatience clearly getting the best of his friend.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Ben stumbles to his sofa. That last drink did him in. He can feel himself fading.  
  
“Iss just so hard Armitage,” _hiccup_ , “she’s … she’s so beautiful and I jus can’t leggo. Bu-but she didn’t have a mark.”  
  
“You checked?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Where?”  
  
“What d’ya mean where? Like where I met her?”  
  
“No, like where did you check for a mark?”  
  
“Oh. Y’know. Where iss s’posed to be,” he’s slurring now but can’t find a single fuck to give, “forrarm, neck.”   
  
“You know, until a few months ago, I thought all soulmate marks were in 2 places, and then I met … someone … who proved that wrong. Maybe… wait, who is she?”  
  
“S-someone I’ll nevr have.”  
  
He doesn’t remember anything after that. Because he’s fast asleep.

  
  


—————————————————-

  
  


Armitage is staring at his friend, waiting for an answer, for him to expand on his uncharacteristically cryptic words. But none comes. Instead he hears the rhythmic breathing of drunken sleep.   
  
Shaking his head he goes to fish a large duvet out of Ben’s linen closet and drapes it over his prone body. He’s worried about Ben. Since they’ve known each other, Ben’s been the one to care for him, protect him. Ben was his rock. Ben had beat the shit out of those playground bullies for him, made him see his self worth when his father put him down time and time again. Even when Ben had given it all up for that stint with that gang, he would always make time to visit. Like nothing had changed. Sure he’d show up draped in leather looking menacing as fuck but he was still the Ben he grew up with.  
  
Ben was his safe haven when everyone only saw a stiff ginger with a solid case of RBF. He wants to help him so badly but  _ just doesn’t know how _ . Because he’s making it difficult. Because he’s  _ being _ difficult. Which isn’t that unusual for him but his current situation is painful to watch unfold.  
  
Armitage gets to work taking off Ben’s socks. The guy’s always overheated if he slept with socks on. Judging by the empty bottles in his kitchen, he’s been destroying his liver for weeks now and he’ll definitely wake up with a hangover. If nothing else, he can help him at least find some peace in sleep.  
  
He heads to the kitchen to refill his glass water bottle and fish out Motrin. A small mercy he’ll leave on the coffee table for when he wakes up with an inevitable headache.   
  
What else can he do to make his life better?  _ Aah _ .

HUX:  _ Do you mind keeping Chewie overnight? I can bring you his meals and more poop bags.  
  
_ JANNAH:  _ Is everything OK with Ben?  
  
_ HUX:  _ He’s working through some things. Do you mind?  
  
_ JANNAH:  _ Not at all. We’ll be back from our walk in about 30. Meet me at my place?  
  
_ HUX:  _ Perfect. Thank you. _

Great. We have a semblance of a hangover cure and Chewie’s set for the night. He should probably check the fridge for pickles and the freezer for vodka. That mix always takes the edge off, pickle juice and vodka.  
  
Ok, so, we’ve got a blanket, removed the socks, hangover relief and taken care of Chewie. What else?  
  
Shirt. Lose the shirt. He overheats.  _ Fuck _ . The guy’s a mammoth, jostling the shirt off his drunken dead weight is going to be a mission.  
  
But he perseveres. Slowly but surely he’s able to peel the sweaty t-shirt off his friend’s back and carries it alongside his socks straight to his overflowing laundry hamper. He’s got half a mind to put a load in for the poor bastard but he doesn’t want to stick around any longer than he needs to. Mostly because he knows he’d start cleaning. Shit the place needs to be aired out, recycling taken out, do the laundry, the bedsheets look like they haven’t been washed in weeks. His OCD is kicking in  _ hard _ .  
  
Standing over Ben after he’s tucked him in, he gets a good look at his Ben Solo. He’s filthy, probably hasn’t seen the inside of a shower in days. All greasy hair clinging to his forehead and ears, he reeks of whiskey. Alcoholism isn’t a good look on him, he needs to remedy that ASAP.  
  
And then there’s that sleeve… God what an idiot. Whatever possessed him to do such a thing to his body. I mean sure, it made him look like a badass and he hasn’t been challenged to a bar fight since getting it, but the poor bastard is  _ suffering _ because of it.  
  
Armitage doesn’t know what overcomes him. Call it intuition, call it curiosity, but he flips his friend’s bare arm over. His eyes rove over the expanse of art. He’s searching for  _ it _ , trying to carve it out with his eyes.  
  
There it is.   
  
His fingers trace over it and Ben briefly stirs. Just like he remembers it from so long ago. It’s curved wings, curved into a circle almost, in the middle a sword with a star at the hilt.   
  
And then it hits him. His eyes go wide and his hands start to shake. He fishes out his phone as he runs out of the penthouse.

  
HUX:  _ Rosie? Describe Rey’s mark for me again? _


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“We’re on a retainer with them as of, oh … Friday? The retreat was her idea but I quite like it. We haven’t done any team building in a while and it would be nice to get away…”_
> 
> _“To my uncle’s resort?” Ben interjects angrily._
> 
> _“Oh come off it Ben! It’s beautiful there!”_
> 
> _“He’s also the dick who pushed me into a life of crime.”_
> 
> _“Did he? Or did you just not buy into his hokey Jedi-ism and dive completely off the deep end like the hormonal young adult you were?”_
> 
> _“Are we discussing this retreat? Or psycho-analysing my past?”_
> 
> _“Maybe a little of both?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may seem like a filler chapter, but we need to segway into bringing the babies together. So there, that's what this is. Setting the stage. Tomorrow is _the_ day. 
> 
> I'd also like to throw this out there - I don't have a beta, so if you notice any mistakes it's because of that. Most of the chapters are written in advance (at the time of posting this one I'm writing CH.18), and re-read/edited at least twice, then given a final glance before posting. _If_ mistakes peek through, don't hold it against me <3

“I’d like to thank everyone who’s put in time and effort into creating the successful campaign First Order is currently experiencing. You’ve all been integral to not just this project, but our success as a whole,” Leia’s eyes meet Rey’s for a brief moment.  
  
She’s standing at the front of the boardroom, being every inch the General. The staff looks tired. 9:00 AM meetings are never a good look. 9:00 AM on a Monday is just flat out cruel.  
  
That doesn’t seem to stop the General from holding them occasionally. Rey would bet her left tit the woman didn’t sleep, probably lives off the blood of children and keeps her husband locked up in a cage. She wonders if the General has children, the thought makes her shudder. Who else would think a 9:00 AM meeting on a Monday is fair game? Judging by the faces in the room, only the General.  
  
Rey is doing just fine though. She’d had her morning coffee, even prepared for the meeting. If you consider preparation downing the rest of your roadie, making a second, and bracing yourself for whatever crazy battle plan the General is about to bestow on you.  
  
“You may know that Poe, Amilyn and I have been speaking with the First Order CMO and COO. I’m proud to announce that over the weekend, we’ve solidified a permanent partnership.”  
  
She pauses for effect here and meets everyone’s eye in turn. Letting the words sink in. Rey can’t imagine the indifferent looks she must be meeting.  
  
“Effective next week, we’ll be taking over social media management and our development team will be working on their global rollout. Because we’ll be working closely together, I’d like to do something special for both our companies.”  
  
Rey reaches out to grab a cinnamon bun from the box of peace offerings Leia had catered for the meeting. Like baked goods would lighten the mood. Most of these people hadn’t even had breakfast, probably had a McMuffin growing cold on their desk as Leia spoke.  
  
“I’ve planned a dual retreat this weekend for members of the First Order and Rebel Media Group. Some of you will be in attendance, while others will be tasked with organization,” at this she nods to Kaydel who begins doling out printed booklets.  
  
Rey leafs through her copy. There’s an itinerary, the invitee list, resort and travel information, and a task list for everyone involved.  
  
Right there, on page 2, she sees the list of First Order execs:  


  * Benjamin Solo (President)
  * Armitage Hux (COO)
  * Enric & Estella Pryde (CFO)
  * Nastia Unamo (Director, Accounting)
  * Dopheld Mitaka (CMO) 
  * Zorii Bliss (PA CMO)
  * Edrison Peavey (Barrister & Solicitor)
  * Moden Canady (Barrister & Solicitor) 



From Rebel Media the list reads:

  * Leia Organa (President)
  * Kaydel Connix (PA President)
  * Amilyn Holdo (CFO)
  * Poe Dameron (Project Manager)
  * Zari Bangles (Project Manager)
  * Jessika Pava (Senior Copy Editor)
  * Rey Niima (Senior Copywriter) 
  * Rose Tico (Senior SEO Specialist) 
  * Finn Storm (Senior Developer)



The destination is a quiet resort on the privately held island Ahch-To, off the coast. She’ll need to Google this place but it sounds absolutely amazing. Island? She’s never seen the ocean and she’s practically vibrating with excitement as her eyes dance across the booklet.  
  
“This package will be sent to the attending members of First Order as well. Those of you attending, this is not a free weekend of debauchery. We’ll be holding meetings, team building exercises and concentrated scrums to draft outlines. You can find the itinerary and attendants on page 6. This is 100% a working weekend and you will be given vacation days in lieu as compensation.”  
  
Poe’s hand shoots up, waving frantically like the overzealous kid in class.  
  
Leia nods at him.  
  
“Pardon me, Mrs. Organa, but how the hell did you manage to book all this on such short notice?”  
  
Leia just smiles at him deviously, “let’s just say the owner owes me a favor or two.”  
  
The staff nods somberly. Free trip or not, it’s still Monday  _ fucking _ morning.   
  
Leia continues, “Amilyn, Poe, Zari? Please stay back. We need to further discuss logistics, payment, and organization. The rest of you have everything you need in the package to prepare. Poe and Zari will oversee any questions and in-house planning as soon as they’ve been further debriefed. Thank you all again. Feel free to distribute the untouched baked goods amongst yourselves.”  
  
With that they were dismissed.

  
  


[x]

  
  


Rey is doing extensive research. On Ahch-To, that is. Turns out the island is owned by Luke Skywalker, the head of the Jedi Temple. As in,  _ the same man _ who’s been confusing the shit out of her with his philosophical prattle while she continues to fail at punching out his website copy. It also turns out that he’s Leia’s twin brother. That would explain the short notice booking.  
  
The island itself isn’t tropical. Nor was Rey expecting it to be what with the allotted 4 hour travel time to the resort. It’s a beautiful, rocky, coastal island with winding paths and a forest of tall pines. The resort is comprised of a large main building complete with a dining hall, library, gym, indoor pool, sauna, outdoor hot tub and multiple conference rooms. Visitors got to experience the coast in private huts laid out against cliffs with an unimpeded view of the ocean. Walking on on-site golf carts is the main mode of travelling around the island’s paths. There’s plenty of hiking to be had, lookout decks strewn about to take advantage of the magnificent view, and there’s even a lagoon to swim in if the weather’s nice.   
  
Being late spring, the chances of utilizing said lagoon were slim, especially with the forecasted weather, but she might visit it just to feel the ocean spray. And she’s really looking forward to seeing the ocean for the first time. Especially in such a magnificent place.  
  
The photos of the resort had Rey absolutely giddy with excitement. It’s the perfect blend of mountain lodge and tropical getaway. The huts adorably yurt-like but fully decked out inside with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the water, Nespresso coffee makers, a steam shower and rustic furniture.  
  
Because they’d booked the entire resort, every member without a significant other would be given their own hut.  _ That _ was thrilling as fuck. She’d have her own hut … overlooking the ocean. She could have her morning coffee butt naked looking at the sea if she damn well pleased. Jesus Christ she was going to faint right there on the spot, gushing over accomodation photos of the resort.  
  
According to the package, she’s to pack both comfortable and semi-professional attire. There were plans for a group hike and if you looked carefully, plenty of free time to roam on the itinerary, peppered between a plethora of meetings and scrums of course.   
  
Rey is scheduled to attend 4. On Saturday she’s booked into Social Initiatives with Mitaka, Zorii and Jessika, Blogging & Content Development with Jessika, Zari and Mitaka, and Keyword Mapping with Rose, Hux and Poe. On Sunday she’s scheduled with Jessika and Poe for a half an hour for Content Scheduling.   
  
The weather is expected to be balmy but cool in the evenings. Sweaters are highly recommended. The temperature range is still too cold for her taste, but her weather app predicts sunshine Saturday and Sunday so that’s an added bonus.  
  
Leia organized private transportation for the C Suites of First Order. Rebel Media Group employees were to be picked up at noon at the office on a coach bus that would bring them to the resort just in time to settle in and have dinner. Their return trip was booked for noon on Sunday on the same coach bus.  
  
Her computer pings. A message from Rose on Google Hangouts.

ROSE:  _ Did you go through the package?  
  
_ REY:  _ Yep! Looks incredible.  
  
_ REY:  _ I’ve never seen the ocean. This is amazing!  
  
_ ROSE:  _ I’m gonna request Armie and I are near your hut _ .  
  
REY:  _ Uh, please don’t! I don’t want to hear any of that.  
  
_ ROSE:  _ Maybe it’ll inspire you?  
  
_ REY:  _ To do what exactly?  
  
_ ROSE:  _ Ben’s coming…  
  
_ REY:  _ Oy sod off!  
  
_ ROSE:  _ Just sayin’ _ 😉  
  
REY:  _ We haven’t spoken in months. He’s probably found his soulmate by now.  
  
_ ROSE:  _ I highly doubt that _

  
_  
Shit _ . That’s right. Ben’s going to be there.  
  
Ben. Whom she hasn’t seen in 2 months. Ben whom she hasn’t formally met,  _ ever _ . Ben, whose sad eyes have been haunting her day and night since the club. Ben, who’s helped her find comfort in the pages of an old book.  
  
… Ben who’d been the bane of her existence for the length of their collaboration until one day, he wasn’t.

REY:  _ How would you know?  
  
  
_ She’s genuinely curious what makes Rose so certain. Her heart skips a beat and she’s acutely aware her lower back is burning.

ROSE: _ I just have a feeling  
  
_ REY: _ What are you one of those Jedi?  
  
_ ROSE:  _ Oh God don’t remind me  
  
_ ROSE:  _ I fucking HATE that website  
  
_ ROSE:  _ With a passion  
  
_ ROSE:  _ Like, how do I even map for that? There isn’t even search volume for ‘serenity in the force’ _

Rey giggles knowing exactly how difficult that project is. She’d been collaborating with Rose on it more since Leia decided the content should include proper SEO. Now that she knows Luke is Leia’s brother, it makes sense he’d be given the royal treatment … unfortunate for herself and Rose.

REY: _‘Kumbaya circle jerk’ gets a few monthly hits, think we can work that in?  
  
_ ROSE: 🤣  
  
ROSE: _Rey? Who’s more annoying? Solo or Skywalker?  
  
_ REY: _You know I’m going to say Skywalker. No fair!  
  
_ ROSE: _Good thing. Cause Ben 🍆💦💦  
  
_ REY: _Rose! I’d like to let you know, I think you’re a bloody fucking wanker  
  
_ ROSE: ❤️❤️❤️ _  
_

She  _ should _ feel annoyed.  _ Should _ feel worried about being in close confines with him. God knows how he’ll be. Maybe that one conversation they had was a total fluke and she’d have to spend the weekend trading jabs with a total jackass.  
  
But then those deep, sad eyes flood her memory and her worries dissipate.  
  
What she feels instead is …  _ hopeful _ .   
  
Yeah, that’s what that is.

  
  


—————————————————- 

  
  


Ben is nursing a hangover, slumped forward in his office chair staring at his computer.  
  
To be more precise, staring at the email from his mother. Has been staring at it since he got in.

——

From: leiaorgana@rebelmediagroup.com   
To: b.solo@firstorder.com, a.hux@firstorder.com, d.mitaka@firstorder.com, e.pryde@firstorder.com   
Subject: Joint Retreat Information Package

Gentlemen,  
  
It’s with great pride I invite you to join our team on a retreat to the private island of Ahch-To this weekend. This retreat is a celebration of our joint endeavors and an opportunity to kick-start our path to success. Attached you’ll find the necessary information for this weekend. Please disseminate amongst your attending staff.  
  
If you have any further questions, feel free to give me a call. I’ll be happy to walk you through the details.  
  
Looking forward to spending time with you all.

Kind Regards,  
Leia Organa

——

What in Hades halls just fucking happened? Did Hux plan this? Is that why he showed up at his house this morning and all but shoved him into the shower, set out his clothing, fed him and hustled him into the office?  
  
Ben opens the attachment with every intention of reading it when he stops on page 2. Invitee list. There, nestled between some of his mother’s finest, was the name he’d dreaded seeing - Rey Niima.  
  
A name he wants to both forget and never let go. The name attached to a set of eyes that have nestled into his hindbrain and made it their home, following him, watching him every waking moment. His heart beats a hard rhythm against his ribcage. It’s hangover anxiety, he tells himself.  
  
There’s a knock on his door. Who the hell actually knocks around here? They usually just barge in.  
  
“Come in.”  
  
It’s Hux. Of course it’s him. Here to come clean about his cavorting with his mother no doubt.   
  
“Hey Ben. Did you get the email?”  
  
“Yeah,” he palms his face, “wanna tell me how  _ the fuck _ all of this happened?”  
  
“Uh, not much to tell. I believe your words from last Wednesday were something like ‘Mitaka needs Rebel Media for social media and the global rollout. Organize it’, so I did.”  
  
Did he? Say that?  
  
Ben eyes him suspiciously, his hand over his mouth in disbelief. This is too much thinking with the headache that’s splitting his head in two. He needs a fucking drink.  
  
“We’re on a retainer with them as of, oh … Friday? The retreat was her idea but I quite like it. We haven’t done any team building in a while and it would be nice to get away…”  
  
“ _ To my uncle’s resort _ ?” Ben interjects angrily.  
  
“Oh come off it Ben! It’s beautiful there!”  
  
“He’s also the dick who pushed me into a life of crime.”  
  
“Did he? Or did you just not buy into his hokey Jedi-ism and dive completely off the deep end like the hormonal young adult you were?”  
  
“Are we discussing this retreat? Or psycho-analysing my past?”  
  
“Maybe a little of both?”  
  
They stare at each other. Ben’s chest is heaving, he’s about ready to deck Hux with the smug look on his face. Yet there’s something beneath that pompous grin. It’s something … knowing.  
  
“Why are you smiling like that?”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like you know something. Something you know I’d lose my shit over. What did my mother do?”  
  
“Oh? No, nothing. I just …” Hux sighs raising his hands up in mock defeat, “it’s nice to have you back in the office. Nice to banter with you again. And I’m … optimistic. About this trip. For many reasons.”  
  
“Such as?”  
  
“I think it’s … serendipitous. That our companies would get together like that. I think with time, you’ll see it too. While we’re there.”  
  
“Oh fuck off with that cryptic bullshit. Get out. I need to call my mother. See if I can cancel this whole damn thing.”  
  
Hux just laughs but backs away towards the door nonetheless. His hands are still raised up, now looking more like he’s facing a firing squad.  
  
“Now Ben, you know as well as I that once your mother has it in…”  
  
“ **OUT!** ”  
  
“Leaving!” Hux swings the door open and slides out, poking his head through to add, “nice having you back Ben.”  
  
_ What. The Fuck. Just Happened?  
  
_ Whose bright idea was this? Ok, let’s assume he really did approve the social media management and expansion. It actually makes sense. He wouldn’t trust anyone other than his mother with the delicacies of his company. But did he approve this retreat? Or was this his mother’s grandiose way of trying to help him patch up the relationship with his uncle. A relationship he doesn’t  _ care _ to patch up. Come to think of it, he should have never started patching things up with his mother. Especially if it opened the gates to this … clusterfuck.  
  
He scrolls through his phone to find his mother’s contact and presses the call button a little more forcefully than he should. It rings briefly before she picks up.  
  
“Now you’re  _ calling  _ me? To what do I owe this pleasure?”  
  
“You wanna explain this whole retreat to me?”  
  
“Oh Benny, this is just my way of saying thank you.”  
  
“At Luke’s? Sounds like what you’re really saying is  _ fuck you Ben _ .”  
  
She laughs on the other end of the line.  
  
“Ma, this isn’t funny. It’s fucking infuriating.”  
  
“ _ Language _ Ben. And no. I assure you whatever happened between you and Luke is none of my concern.”  
  
He was pressing his luck with the swearing. He’d gotten away with one, it was one more than usual. Closing his eyes he draws in a series of deep breaths to recenter himself and tries again.  
  
“Then why Ahch-To?”  
  
“Ben, you need to get your head out of your ass for a minute. Can you do that for me?”  
  
_ What?   
  
_ “What?”  
  
“You heard me.”  
  
Ok he’s dreaming. It’s settled. He just needs to pinch himself and he’ll wake up and it’ll all be over. He does.  _ Ow _ .  
  
His mother just sighs and begins, “This might be hard for you to wrap your head around, but it isn’t just about you, Ben. If you can step back for a minute, can you see it from my perspective? Hmm?”  
  
She pauses there, giving him time for more deep breaths to ward off the incoming rage.  
  
“Your officers are great people, Ben. I want to give them an experience. A private island like that is booked years in advance. I’d also like to give back to my employees. God knows they already fear me. I just want to  _ give _ . This is such a great opportunity to do both  _ and _ make sure my son’s company is successful. Can you try to understand that?”  
  
He can.  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“Ok. Good. I know you’ll be angry about it for some time, but I promise you it’ll be good, Ben. Luke won’t be there. I’ve already asked him to keep away. We may be doing this for the company, but I still care about  _ you _ .”  
  
Ben is … going to cry. In all his years of wishing his mother was more emotionally available, this is all he’d ever wanted to hear. All he can do is mumble, “K,” not trusting his voice with any more syllables.  
  
How the hell has this woman managed to manipulate the entirety of their conversation?   
  
“Good. I’ll see you there on Friday? I’m leaving early, want to meet me there for 2:00?”  
  
“Mmhmm”  
  
He doesn’t know how he does it. How he manages to say ‘I love you’ and ‘bye’, but he does. When it’s all over, he drops his head into his palms and just cries.

  
  


[x]

  
  


Ben makes it through the rest of the day somehow. Mostly by holding on to his plan to get home and drown his sorrows in whiskey.   
  
Except when he gets back, his place is in immaculate form. The bedding fresh, the apartment aired out, the fridge is actually full of real food, his laundry done and put away. On the counter he finds a takeout container from Yavin with Shanghai noodles and a note.  
  
To his chagrin his bottles of whiskey disappeared and only one, a quarter full, sits on his bar.   
  
_ Fucking Hux _ .  
  
He opens the note, ready to use whatever snarky note that ginger fuck left in there against him in the near future.

  
  


_ Ben,  
  
_ _ I know you’re going to call me to bitch in, oh, 5 minutes.  
_ _ But before you do, let me speak a language you know well:  
  
_ _ ‘Every blessing ignored becomes a curse.’  
_ _ Maktub _

_ A. Hux _

  
Ben never does call to give him shit. He eats his noodles thinking of hazel eyes and takes Chewie for a long walk. For the first time in weeks, something akin to hope blooms in his chest.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Maktub_ is a term use frequently in The Alchemist. It translates to 'it is written' but has an undertone of 'it is meant to be'.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Luck wasn’t on her side though, because the minute she disembarks the bus, while everyone is clamouring over their bags and getting checked in, she sees Leia talk to a very tall, very handsome, very freaking delicious looking Ben Solo in what she can only dub a ‘good boi sweater’. And to add insult to injury, instead of having the chance to snake off undetected and avoid making a daft fool of herself infront of him, Leia hones in on her and waves her over._
> 
> _Fuck. Get your shit together Rey. Sure you haven’t seen him in 2 months. Sure he’s got the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen. Sure he’s exactly your type, a fact you hadn’t known until precisely 2 months ago. Sure your head feels like a punching bag at a boxing studio. Just put one foot in front of the other, ignore that headache and smile._
> 
> _“Rey, glad you and the team made it. I trust the trip was uneventful?”_
> 
> “If you ignore Poe’s bloody attempts at singing, sure.”

Rey woke up at 6:00 AM feeling like absolute garbage. Her head was pounding and her sinuses felt on the verge of imploding. She was running a mild fever and had the telltale symptoms of a cold. All in, it was the perfect way to wake up the morning of the trip you’ve been dying to take.   
  
Her first time seeing the ocean and the universe decided to gift her a cold. She’s not even sure how she managed to catch one. Wasn’t that just a stroke of luck though? She’d need to get herself to a doctor for some (hopefully) decent news otherwise she’d need to cancel.  
  
She dragged herself to a 24H walk-in clinic in her pajamas only to be told she had a case of rhinitis. The doctor had given her a prescription for antibiotics and told her it would clear out in a few days alongside rest, ibuprofen, no coffee or caffeinated anything and  _ definitely no drinking _ . He’d suggested she also grab some probiotics to balance her gut flora, whatever the fuck that meant.   
  
Worst of all, the doctor had warned that her sense of smell might be impeded. Rey  _ was _ looking forward to smelling the sea and really immersing herself in the experience. Then again, at least it wasn’t infectious or left her bedridden so she’d taken the small mercy in stride. Besides, as long as she got to enjoy this trip and remain functional she’d happily forego at least 2 of her 5 senses, provided one of them wasn’t sight. Drinking by the ocean was out of the question but in the grand scheme of things, it was a minor bucket list item.   
  
She filled her prescription at the adjacent pharmacy and went home to take the first pill alongside a generic brand ibuprofen, then went back to bed for an hour. When she woke up feeling  _ much _ better, she showered and set about packing for the trip while propping open her laptop to keep an eye out for incoming emails.  
  
Rey stuffed her toiletries and medications, running shoes, and a pair of heels into her duffle bag first. It’s the only bag she has that could be considered travel worthy, and really, it’s just a gym bag. Growing up in foster care left her with few possessions and whatever money she did make thereafter she’d either invested in schooling or building the life she lived now. Travelling was on her to do list, just not the immediate one, so the purchase of luggage was still a bit of a frivolity   
  
She then grabbed undergarments and socks, pajamas, her blanket scarf, 2 chunky knit sweaters, her white sheath dress, a bunch of tank tops, her favourite pair of black jeans, and a blazer to stuff in.  
  
By 11:30 AM she’s dressed in her yoga tights, her flats and a loose t-shirt with her chunky knit cardigan looped through the duffle. She quickly stuffs The Alchemist, her water canteen, her laptop and phone charger into her purse, then grabs the matching devices and calls an Uber for pickup. 

REY: _ You still good to watch Maz for the weekend?  
  
_ JANNAH: _ Yep. Dog sitting the cling-on again so he’ll be joining.   
  
_ JANNAH:  _ Don’t worry they get along swimmingly.  
  
_ REY:  _ Can I meet him? I haven’t had pup love in forever. You know how cats are.  
  
_ JANNAH: 😓  _ He’s volunteering with me at the clinic. I’ll be home at 3 though. Wanna meet then?  
  
_ REY:  _ Shit I can’t. We’ll be gone by then.  
  
_ JANNAH:  _ That’s alright, when you’re back then. I have him till Sunday evening.  
  
_ REY: _ You’re the best Jannah _ 💖

While she’s waiting outside of her building she notices how strange it is to not be able to smell anything. Now that the pressure in her head subsided she feels almost normal again, so it’s odd to not even be able to scent the warmth in the wind or the metallic smell of the metro.  
  
That’s inconsequential, she reminds herself. She’s going to see the freaking  _ ocean _ !  
  
The Uber pulls up and she jumps in giving the driver the address of their office.

  
  


[x]

  
  


She’d slept the majority of the 4 hour drive wrapped in her cardigan while the rest of the team went from a boisterous rendition of ‘the wheels on the bus’ courtesy of Poe, to quiet talking, to eventually all nodding off.  
  
To her chagrin, she missed the ferry ride and would now have to wait until she got to her room to see the ocean. The bus wound up a gravel path through the thick forest she’d seen in photos and up to a grand roundabout of the main lobby. In the parking lot she saw only 2 cars: Leia’s Range Rover and a _fucking Silencer_! Someone at the First Order has a Silencer!  
  
Her money’s on Pryde. He seemed like the type of guy who would dish on cars. Or maybe Mitaka, he’s young and would probably support electric initiatives. Either way she’d _love_ to talk to it’s owner and maybe get a peek inside. The last time she’d seen one was at a car show and it was filled with greasy fingered children touching every button and lever inside the cabin. She’d never gotten a chance to sit inside thanks to the little monsters.  
  
Her head has started throbbing again so she quickly dry swallowed another ibuprofen, reminding herself it’ll take 20 minutes to kick in, plenty of time to settle in and work off her headache before dinner. She’ll need to put her best face forward and can’t risk being a cranky bitch.  
  
Luck wasn’t on her side though, because the minute she disembarks the bus, while everyone is clamouring over their bags and getting checked in, she sees Leia talk to a very tall, very handsome, very freaking delicious looking Ben Solo in what she can only dub a ‘good boi sweater’. And to add insult to injury, instead of having the chance to snake off undetected and avoid making a daft fool of herself infront of him, Leia hones in on her and waves her over.  
  
 _Fuck_. Get your shit together Rey. Sure you haven’t seen him in 2 months. Sure he’s got the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen. Sure he’s exactly your type, a fact you hadn’t known until precisely 2 months ago. Sure your head feels like a punching bag at a boxing studio. Just put one foot in front of the other, ignore that headache and smile.  
  
“Rey, glad you and the team made it. I trust the trip was uneventful?”  
  
“If you ignore Poe’s bloody attempts at singing, sure.”  
  
Ben laughs at that, she made him laugh. Fuck if she isn’t preening a little. From the corner of her eye she notices it’s the same smile, the same laugh she’d seen on TV but in person it’s _so much better_. It’s shy and wholesome, like he’s completely oblivious to the fact that he’s a goddamn Adonis.  
  
“This is Benny, by the way. He tells me you haven’t been formally introduced to one another.”  
  
 _Benny?  
  
_ _Shit_. She actually has to face him.   
  
“Uh, no. No we haven’t,” she gulps down the knot in her throat and turns to face him. Her eyes travel up and up and she might just snap her neck visually climbing this sequoia. _Aaaand_ there they are. Those deep pools of longing and sadness threatening to swallow her whole. They’re just as intense as she remembers, moreso even. She’s on the brink of just letting them, just diving in.  
  
“Uh h-hi. It’s n-nice to meet you in person Ben. I-I’m Rey,” she manages to choke out pathetically, nodding up at him as their eyes lock.  
  
And what the actual fuck, his eyes crinkle, a smile gracing his already imperfectly perfect face that looks like it’s just for her, one she hadn’t seen before. It’s tender and open and sincere and it makes her weak in the knees.  
  
“Nice to meet you too, Rey,” he nods back almost imperceptibly.  
  
Jesus his voice is like thick honey with a hint of nasal. It’s sweet and dark and laced with … _something_. She needs to get her mind out of the gutter. This is the _President_ of their _biggest_ _client_. Whom she hasn’t seen or spoken to in 2 months. To him she’s nobody, a copywriter he collaborated with for a split second. They’ll just have this exchange and he’ll probably pay her zero attention for the rest of the stay.   
  
She _needs_ to be professional. The antibiotics must be screwing with her. Or maybe it’s the pain killers. Nerves? No, she slept too long on the bus. That’s what it is. One of those things, yeah. That's why her heart is beating double time and her palms are sweaty and her back's on fire.  
  
“Benny here was just gushing about how well those PRs you wrote worked. Isn’t that right?” Leia jumps in to save her.  
  
There it is again. _Benny_.  
  
He’s nodding again at her, but hasn’t stopped smiling at her like _that_.  
  
“How … how long have you known each other?” the question leaves her lips before she has the chance to think better of it. She slaps her hand over her mouth, realizing how inappropriately she’d phrased that question. Jesus, Rey, ‘how long have you worked together’ can’t be that hard to articulate. Hindsight is always 20/20 isn’t it.  
  
“Oh? I thought you knew. It’s common knowledge around the office. Benny here is my son.”  
  
 _Oh._ _My. God._ Of course he’s her son. Look at those eyes, they’re practically the same except Leia’s terrify her and Ben’s … well she doesn’t want to dwell on what _they_ do to her. He must have gotten the height from his father because _damn_.  
  
 _‘My mother she’s … a tough lady. A real hardass. ... I was raised by nannies_.’  
  
No _wonder_ the guy’s de-facto condition is prickly ass. Leia’s _his_ _mother_. Rey didn’t have one growing up but she also couldn’t imagine having Leia as one. Leia is tough, astute. Shit the poor guy probably couldn’t sneak a chocolate bar much less sneak out after curfew. He was probably raised in military fashion and couldn’t hide a damn thing from his shark of a mother. _Of course_ prickly is default.  
  
She becomes uncomfortably aware that she’s still staring at him. Scratch that, they’re both staring at _each other_ … _still_. Her mouth is also agape.  
  
“Right. Great. Sooo …” she turns to Leia for a reprieve from those eyes, “Whose Silencer is that anyway?”  
  
Safe topic right?  
  
“That’s mine,” the deep voice replies.   
  
Of course. Of _fucking_ course it would be his. The guy’s got a hardon for green initiatives. Why _wouldn’t_ he drive a prototype of the world’s first luxury electric car? Betcha Snap is his mechanic too and it was _his_ hyperdrive that was probably loose. Wouldn’t that just be serendipitous?  
  
She doesn’t get to ask because she’s interrupted by Rose squealing.

  
  


—————————————————- 

  
  


His entire day and outlook on the weekend turns on its head the minute he sees her.  
  
She’s everything he remembered and more. _So_ much more. In Ahch-To’s overcast skies she’s like unfiltered sunshine. Her hair is down, hanging past her shoulders and she looks freshly woken, bleary eyed and pouty lipped. He wants to wake up to _that_ face every goddamned day of his life. _Fuck_ why is he doing this to himself?   
  
Then her voice. Her _voice_ is so much more angelic in person. It’s musical and sweet with just a touch of congestion. He’s got half a mind to get into the car and just leave. He’s also got half a mind to sweep her up, caveman carry her to his hut to fuck and snuggle her out of his system for the entirety of their weekend. This is too hard, much harder than he’d imagined. Everything about her is just too much for him. Her _presence alone_ is overwhelming him in every way. He’s not even sure it’s unwelcome, he might even _like_ it.  
  
His body cants towards her, like he can’t help but be pulled into her orbit, his soulmate mark itches beneath the sleeve of his sweater and he paws at it like a rabid dog. He wants to touch her, smell her. The pull he feels is unnatural, really. Christ, he doesn’t know how he’s going to survive this weekend under his mother’s observant gaze while trying to remain professional towards this … this … _goddess_.  
  
He didn’t even know he had a type. Not until 2 months ago when suddenly everything she is became his type. He’d tried to drown it out with whiskey but seeing her here, in the flesh, brings back everything and more.  
  
Luckily Rose has her wrapped in a tight hug chatting away happily. She’s being pulled over to an attendant to sort out accommodations, leaving her small duffle bag next to Rose’s enormous suitcase. It makes his very obvious staring just a touch less awkward, now that he can do so freely.  
  
“Don’t even think about it Ben. She’s not your mate and I won’t have you touching one of my best,” his mother scolds him quietly.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I see the way you’re looking at her. Knock it off.”  
  
“You should talk to your girl Rose over there and Armitage,” he snorts drily, “they tried to get your PA in my bed.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Kaydel over there can’t stop hanging off me since they tried to hook us up.”  
  
“You didn’t!” a look of horror crosses his mother’s visage.  
  
“She’s not my soulmate so clearly not, no.”  
  
His mother blinks a few times dazed, then her features harden and he can tell she’s honed in on her PA. Good. Maybe she can scold Kaydel and get her off his back. He doesn’t even feel bad when she plods off in that direction.  
  
A hand falls on his shoulder.   
  
“Ben, you’re here early! I see you finally met Rey.”  
  
“Armitage,” he greets him curtly.  
  
Of all the people he’d rather _not_ interact with right now, Hux is #2. Right after his mother. He can feel himself getting irate again. Something he’d been hoping to keep in check for at least one day here. No dice.  
  
It also doesn’t help that this fucking island is making his allergies kick into overdrive. It happened every time he’d visit this place as a kid. Something about the trees and ocean here gave him a bad case of rhinitis until he acclimated. That usually took a few days which wasn’t bad as a kid, but this retreat was only a few days so he’ll just have to survive with a fog over his senses. It had started the moment he’d stepped out of the car hours ago and is coming to a head now as luck would have it.  
  
Damn it he really wants to smell her. To confirm, to follow his fucking heart and damn itchy mark which just won’t let her go.  
  
 _‘Until a few months ago, I thought all soulmate marks were in 2 places’  
  
_ Who said that? Why is his memory dredging this up now?  
  
Rose and Rey are walking back towards them and Rey happily greets Hux with a hug. Fuck, he wants a hug from her. Wrap his arms around that tiny little waist and just absorb her into himself, never let her go.  
  
 _This has_ got _to stop before his mother whoops his ass six ways from Sunday_. He doesn’t want to even imagine the verbal beatdown he’d get if she found out he’d desecrated one of her employees. _Especially_ after telling her about his soulmate. Her warning was stern and it put the fear of God in him. Besides, could he?   
  
The way Rey makes him feel, she couldn’t be a one night stand if he tried. He’d probably dote on her and definitely date her (forever) and where would that leave his soulmate? His heart skips a beat at that.  
  
“I convinced them to put our huts together,” Rose smiles at them sweetly, it’s a ruse and Ben knows it, “shall we?”  
  
“Of course, Rosie,” Hux turns to Ben, “mind carrying Rey’s bags?”  
  
 _Uh what?  
  
_ “What?”   
  
“What?”  
  
They spoke in unison.  
  
Shit is she as uncomfortable as he is? He’s making her uncomfortable isn’t he. It’s the staring. It’s got to be the staring. Look the fuck away Ben. At anything, anywhere. The sky? No, that would be weird.  
  
His gaze falls on Hux who’s sporting one hell of a shit-eating grin.  
  
Oh _God_ it’s another one of their fucking plans, isn’t it. He should have _known_! They know she’s unmarked and they’re spending a weekend on a private island and they’re trying to get him laid ... _again_. Why did he look at Hux of all people?  
  
No. He can’t let this … _any of this_ … influence this weekend. His company needs this. On Sunday the lawyers will serve Snoke with their final offer and injunction. After that they’ll be in the clear to do as they please. Rey will probably end up working on more content pieces for them so he needs to sort out these feelings and nurture an amiable working relationship with her. It’s what’s best for her future, his future _and_ his company.  
  
Hux and Rose have already started walking, leaving the two of them standing in what he can only describe as mutual shock.  
  
He clears his throat in concession, “right, ready then?”  
  
Ben picks up her small duffle bag and slings it over his shoulder.  
  
She nods a bit awkwardly.  
  
“I can carry that, you know?”  
  
He agrees. It weighs practically nothing. More of a gym bag than a weekender, but he points at the soulmated couple walking ahead instead.  
  
“He’d kill me. And, believe it or not, that ginger prick can inflict some pain.”  
  
She graces him with a genuine laugh.

  
  


[x]

  
  


“I fucking hate this place.”  
  
It’s the first thing he says after they’d walked for what seems like too long in silence. Even after he’d drawn a laugh from her with his remark about Hux. Trailing the couple, they walk slowly down the meandering pathways of the resort towards the huts.   
  
She scoffs in response. From his peripheral vision he can tell she’s rolling her eyes. Shit. Wrong move Solo.  
  
He sighs and tries again, “this place belongs to my uncle, Luke.”  
  
“So I’ve gathered. It’s beautiful enough, and green. I thought you liked saving nature?”  
  
“I do,” he huffs, “it’s just this place brings back … memories.”  
  
“Aah,” but she doesn’t continue. She’s giving him the stage to speak, or not. She doesn’t seem to expect him to. In fact, she seems distant or ... reserved?  
  
It’s an odd feeling, walking beside her. There is, of course, the underlying awkwardness between them. They’d obviously grated each other’s nerves before and this newfound peace is odd to say the least. But it also feels … right. Ancient. Like they’re  _ supposed _ to walk with each other.   
  
“What do you know about the Jedi?” he tries, unsure if he should tell her about his relationship with his uncle. If she knows about Luke, maybe she’s one of his followers? He can’t risk crapping over Luke’s teachings to someone he wants to impress. Wait what? He shouldn’t, strike that from the record Ben. You’re being courteous, making polite conversation, nothing more.  
  
“Ugh,” she palms her face in obvious frustration, “only that it’s some kumbaya circle jerk for rich bastards. God it’s the most convoluted shit I’ve ever had to write.”  
  
She stops in her tracks then looks at him wide eyed. It’s the first time their eyes meet since the lobby and she looks utterly embarrassed.  
  
He can’t help the way the corners of his mouth twitch up. God she’s perfect.  
  
“My sentiments exactly,” he laughs.  
  
He can see the relief roll off her, a puff of air leave her perfect lips and she anxiously laughs with him. They resume their leisurely stroll, now  _ much _ less awkward.  
  
“When I was a kid, my mom would send me here to meditate with my uncle. Usually summers so she could go off travelling to see my dad. Luke had some … strange ideas about emotions. Like that you shouldn’t have them and strive for emotional abstinence … for peace.”  
  
Why does sharing with her feel so natural? Why is his mark still fucking itching? That can’t just be his allergies.  
  
“Well that’s absurd. If you don’t feel anger how will you ever find peace? If you don’t know hate, how will you know love?”  
  
“Yup,” damnit she’s got to be his spirit animal at the very least if not his soulmate, “yet I was forced to spend months here every summer listening to that crap. It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong. I’m just jaded. Probably doesn’t help that it gives me a bad case of allergic rhinitis.”  
  
He hears her choke a cough, mumbling something to the effect of ‘ _ what are the chances’ _ . He can’t be sure.   
  
She falls back a bit, then doubles her pace to catch up. After she heaves a long resigned sigh, she says, “sounds to me like you need to let the past die.”  
  
He tilts his head in thought. It’s not a bad idea. He’s spent the last decade hating and avoiding this place. Perhaps experiencing it differently can help him shed the weight of the memories it carries. Maybe with her...  
  
“Hey Ben?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“I don’t mean to pry but, your car,” she starts, he notices she’s twisting her fingers uncomfortably, “was it in the shop some two and a half months ago?”  
  
How the hell does she know that?  
  
“Uh, yeah why?”  
  
“It’s kind of a rare vehicle. What’s … umm … who’s your mechanic?”  
  
Does she also drive an electric? Why does she need to know?  
  
“Snap Wexley at Wexley Motors, it’s actually close by your office. He makes house calls, decent mechanic, though I don’t know if I’d recommend him for electric...”  
  
There’s a small smile on her face now, like contentment, she’s pressing a hand to her chest. Oh fuck is she dating Snap? How the hell did  _ that _ guy get a girl like her?  
  
“I thought so,” she mumbles under her breath, “Rose set me up on a date with him. He was bitching about how he couldn’t figure out a problem with a Silencer. I’d suggested it was the hyperdrive but I’ve been curious since. So what was it?”  
  
_ She fixed his fucking car _ ?  
  
“It … it was the hyperdrive.”  
  
She nods smiling to herself, at the victory no doubt. She picks up the conversation comfortably, mostly explaining how the hyperdrive works while Ben tries desperately to stop the question from tipping off his tongue. He’s fighting a losing battle but he doesn’t know it until it bursts out of him.  
  
“H-how did the date go?”  
  
“The date?”  
  
“With Snap,” he clarifies.  
  
“Oh,” she looks stunned and a bit dejected for a moment, “God it was awful. The guy’s a complete wanker.”  
  
He laughs.  _ Yes _ ,  _ mine _ .  
  
Wait no, not yes. Not mine. She’s not his soulmate and his mother will kill him if he tries anything. Not that he could, she’s too perfect, too pure. What he really wants to do is snuggle with her, oddly enough. Hold her like she’s the most perfect thing in the world … because she is. Besides, he’s all but tongue tied around her. In fact, he’s surprised he’s managing to carry a conversation with her at all.  
  
Ahead the huts come into view, the sound of the ocean breaking through the quiet of the tree lined path they’re walking. The approaching huts gives him a moment to pause. He’s a little upset that this conversation is coming to an end. Talking to her is like breathing, he could do this for hours, for days, forever.  
  
“Quite frankly I couldn’t believe Rose would set me up with him. He’s nice and all, just … I don’t know …”  
  
“Wait, Rose set you up?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Was Armitage involved somehow?”  
  
“Actually,” she seems to contemplate, “yes, I believe she said Snap was his mechanic.”  
  
“Of  _ fucking _ course. Those two can’t  _ not _ meddle.”  
  
“What?”  
  
He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief, “they’ve been setting me up on really shitty dates for ages, like some pet project. I thought they were my own personal yentas. Until now … that is. Turns out they have a penchant for ruining more than just  _ my _ life.”  
  
They round up to the huts and  _ of course _ she’s next to Rose and Hux, who’ve already slid into theirs and shut the door to probably hump like monkeys. And,  _ of course _ , Rey’s is wedged between their hut and his own. How serendipitous.  
  
He turns to her, to give her the bag. To somehow extricate himself from this conversation which is making his heart beat  _ too  _ fast,  _ too  _ loud. He needs a little distance to clear his head because his emotions are swirling uncontrollably and if he doesn’t pull away now he doesn’t know if he could, ever.  
  
But she’s facing away in profile, eyes trained out across the expanse of the ocean … tears are trickling down her cheek.  
  
_ Fuck _ . What did he do? Oh God did he make her feel like shit about Hux and Rose’s meddling? Sure they were mediocre matchmakers but they mean well. Besides, she's an amazing woman. If he didn’t have a soulmate he’d date her no questions asked. Fuck his heart is screaming at him to date her regardless of  _ everything _ . Even if his brain is listing off all the reasons he shouldn’t.  
  
“Oh no, Rey I’m sorry, they’re not all  _ that  _ bad...”  
  
“No, no. It’s not that … it’s just...” she wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. Then she looks at him, eyes shiny and wide with unshed tears, there’s so much hope inside those wells of hazel, “I’ve just never seen the ocean before.”  
  
She smiles at him and his heart shatters.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how'd we do? Idiots in love right?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Poe breaks his tunnelled vision by putting a hand on the small of her back and whispering in her ear. Her smile drops a touch, not reaching her eyes anymore, and she nods allowing him to whisk her away to their assigned seats. He’s acutely aware that he’s clenching his fists, a breath away from waltzing over to deck the man touching what’s his._
> 
> _This is insane. This is madness. What just happened? If she’s not his soulmate then how on God’s green earth did he just have this out of body experience? How did the world just melt away in her presence?_
> 
> _Then suddenly he’s aware of the very small, very powerful human that birthed him backhanding him upside the head publicly._
> 
> _“I told you to stop it, Ben.”_
> 
> _So he follows her to their seats, cowering sheepishly under his mother’s watchful gaze._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was tapping away at this all day yesterday and noticed how much the story was starting to deviate from the original map. Not in a bad way, in a natural way. There were plot ideas I’d sketched in that now don’t feel right anymore. The story progressed on a different tangent that feels more realistic for their situation. That may mean the chapter count could shift. It may also mean there may be times when daily chapter releases won’t be feasible. IDK yet but FYI.

The ocean is beyond anything she’d ever imagined. Sure, she’d seen pictures on Google. Sure she knew the facts: the Atlantic ocean covers 20% of the earth’s surface, it’s home to the Mid-Atlantic Ridge which is part of the longest mountain range on earth, it was formed during the Jurassic period. The pictures were also amazing, ranging from sunny tropical waters to icy shores and rocky battered islands. It just never looked _this_ big in pictures. It was almighty, she felt it could swallow her whole. Much like the pair of eyes that claws into her conscience unbidden. Ben’s eyes.  
  
Ben who looked utterly wrecked at seeing her cry. Ben, who awkwardly unlocked the door to her hut when she was blinded by tears. Ben who stood dumbly in the doorway asking if she needed anything. Water, snacks, a protein bar, a handkerchief. Ben who teetered on the threshold of her hut rubbing his arm roughly like he couldn’t leave but couldn’t stay. Ben who looked about a hair’s breadth away from giving her what would have surely been the most encompassing hug of her life. Ben who, bless his soul, managed to tear himself out of the doorway before it got too awkward or one of them did something stupid. Because she’s almost certain now the attraction is mutual.  
  
Talking to him was as easy as breathing, headache or not. All the animosity she’d harboured towards him during their calls, all the annoyance she’d felt from his brashness, all of it melted away to be replaced by an easy peace. Like they were _meant_ to talk to one another. It was replaced by an unnatural pull that made her heart flutter when she dwelled on it too long.   
  
The poor guy. His mother is _Leia_ . Who _forced_ him to spend time learning the convoluted Jedi teachings every summer. She’s actually surprised he turned out as well as he did. Most people would have rebelled against that kind of lunacy, joined a gang or something. She remembers some ridiculous poem Luke recited to her the few times they’d talked about the website copy:

_There is no emotion, there is peace  
_ _There is no ignorance, there is knowledge  
_ _There is no passion, there is serenity  
_ _There is no chaos, there is harmony  
_ _There is no death, there is the Force_

If that doesn’t push someone into a loony bin or a life of crime she doesn’t know what does. There is no emotion - you can’t love your pet or get mad at some jackoff driver? There is no ignorance - so kids, by definition, aren’t worthy Jedi? There is no passion - oh I see let’s all be Vulcan. There is no chaos - like he hasn’t seen the news or ventured into a store on Black Friday. There is no death - and yet funeral homes make money hand over fist.  
  
And the place gave him allergic rhinitis to boot. She can only imagine how he must be feeling, considering she’s rocking one herself. Probably all heavy headed and cranky like herself, exceptionally more if she factors in the memories being here dredges up. Still, after all that he’s …  
  
A fleeting memory of his earth shatteringly crooked smile ghosts her conscience. The way he’d lit up like a Christmas tree when she told him about how badly the date went with Snap. It was brief but the emotion was palpable. Like he shouldn’t be happy but was. Like he was possessive over her. She can’t help but smile at that. Her fingers run lazily up and down her sternum in a soothing motion.  
  
That and _knowing_ it was _her_ that fixed his car. It’s a bit serendipitous, she thinks. She’ll need to ask him to take her for a spin. Maybe, if she’s extra good, he’ll let her drive it too.  
  
 _Stop it Rey._ _He’s not your soulmate.  
  
_ But if he isn't, why is her lower back tingling?  
  
 _What if he is?_ She needs to check.  
  
No, there’s no time for her inner voices to battle, she needs to get her shit together for dinner.   
  
So that’s what she does. Rey sets about unpacking her things and laying out her dinner attire, filling her water canteen and dropping an electrolyte tablet in to simmer and dissolve. Then she sets about getting dressed. Shimmying into her white sheath dress and heels, brushing the kinks out of her hair, splashing her face with cold water and applying exactly one swipe of clear mascara for good measure.   
  
When she’s finished she stands at the floor to ceiling windows of the hut, overlooking the expanse of the ocean. She can’t deny being attracted to him. Can’t deny that her body naturally cants towards him. This isn’t just attraction. She’s been on dates with guys she’s found attractive, it was never this … magnetic. She’s drawn to him for more than just his physical appearance. This is unnatural.   
  
And the way she _cares_. It’s like her mind refuses to _not_ care. When he told her about the memories of the island she’d practically felt his pain, had wanted to make it better, wanted to say something that would ease the hurt lacing his words. Like he was hers to comfort.   
  
She chugs some lemonade flavoured electrolyte water from her canteen and goes to consult the book. These feelings are too fucking deep and her thoughts too philosophical. It’s gotta be this place, she reasons with herself, now that she knows its affiliation with the Jedi. Flipping pages of The Alchemist haphazardly, she settles on a random section.  
  
“ _You will never be able to escape from your heart. So it’s better to listen to what it has to say._ ”  
  
Well, what is it saying?  
  
There’s a pathetic little squeak of a honk outside, a beat, then a knock on her door. When she opens it, Rose is standing there in an exquisite navy lace dress and ruby red lips. Hux is grinning at her from the driver's seat of a dinky little golf cart in a dashing navy suit.  
  
“Ready to go to dinner?”

  
  


—————————————————- 

  
  


Peeling himself away from her was hard. He was a hair’s breadth away from slamming the door, wrapping his arms around her and murmuring every promise mankind has to offer. That he’ll show her _every_ ocean. He’ll show her _every_ continent. _Every_ beautiful thing this world has to offer. That he’ll take her anywhere, do anything for her. Because that’s what she deserves, it’s what his body is screaming for him to do even if his voice of reason is telling him it shouldn’t.  
  
He’s not sure how he did it, the way his body was being pulled to her like a magnet, but he managed to rip himself away and go to his own hut. It had been physically painful to walk the opposite direction. His chest felt like it was being squeezed by a vise, the skin on his forearm burning so hot he thought he was getting third degree burns.   
  
But he’d done it. He’d walked away and there wasn’t a single fucking soul to tell him he’d done the right thing. So he makes due with telling himself he did the right thing, that his mother would approve.   
  
He can’t deny the attraction. It’s impossible to deny her pull whether it’s unhealthy or not. She elicits a very visceral reaction from him, one he has no control over. If she’s not the one, why is his body reacting this way? Why is his forearm on fire?  
  
He splashes his face with cold water, throws back a Motrin and heads out for some fresh air. To walk back to the main building for dinner and hopefully wear off whatever latent energy is coursing through him.  
  
The walk helps clear his head if only a little. As does the easy conversation he makes with Pryde and his wife Estella whom he runs into on the way. As does shooting the shit with Poe or discussing the buy out with the lawyers Canady and Peavey. In fact, he’s pretty much back to normal when Rose and Hux walk into the dining hall. When they trail a fucking _angel_ behind them.  
  
Her entrance freezes everything around him, rooting him to the spot. Ben’s hearing dampens and his peripheral vision blurs. His senses tunnelling into her unbidden. The way that white dress accentuates her statuesque posture, the way the neckline highlights her delicate collarbones and the slenderness of her neck. The way her hair frames her face and brings out her freckles. The way her eyes glitter in the soft lighting. The way she fucking _gleams_ . The way she sucks in a small breath when their eyes meet. The way she smiles a goofy grin at him, much like he must now be smiling back at her like a lovesick buffoon.  
  
Poe breaks his tunnelled vision by putting a hand on the small of her back and whispering in her ear. Her smile drops a touch, not reaching her eyes anymore, and she nods allowing him to whisk her away to their assigned seats. He’s acutely aware that he’s clenching his fists, a breath away from waltzing over to deck the man touching what’s _his_ .  
  
This is insane. This is madness. What just happened? If she’s not his _soulmate_ then how on God’s green earth did he just have this out of body experience? How did the world just melt away in her presence?  
  
Then suddenly he’s aware of the very small, very powerful human that birthed him backhanding him upside the head publicly.  
  
“I told you to stop it, Ben.”  
  
So he follows her to their seats, cowering sheepishly under his mother’s watchful gaze.  
  
He’s not sure how he makes it through dinner. What he’s eating even. He’s mildly present during the conversations between stealing glances. _Every single one_ returned.  
  
“I think the buyout option is quite good, actually. Better than what we had originally signed on for,” Canady boasts, tipping his glass of merlot towards his mother.  
  
“He’s been problematic in the past though, hasn’t he?” Leia responds. The topic of conversation is his VC. He doesn’t give a single fuck to involve himself in this right now, there’s an angel across the room.  
  
“We’ve spoken to other companies in his portfolio. Quietly of course. They _do_ agree his terms can be …” Peavey rolls his wrist with a roasted potato speared on the prongs of his fork through the air, “ _binding_ .”  
  
“Nothing is binding in this world, Mr. Peavey,” his mother chuckles, “except maybe death and taxes. And both of those can be cheated … for a time.”  
  
The lawyers burst into haughty laughter while Ben makes eye contact with Rey for the 16th time. Not that he’s counting.   
  
A nudge and a throat clears beside him. His mother is about ready to deck him, he can feel the annoyance roll off her in waves.  
  
“We… we have every right to buy them out,” he offers in a sad attempt to contribute to the conversation, “our figures check out. If you’ll pardon my french, this should be a straight fuck and chuck.”  
  
His mother clears her throat again. She’s never liked his forward nature in business. Hell she’s never liked him swearing period. But that’s neither here nor there - she can control his mastery of expletives about as much as she can control the tides. Provided she’s not the moon, that is. Besides, an angel is looking his way for the 17th time.  
  
The conversation continues to lull. Ben paying no heed to any of it, continuing to steal glances, more covertly now. The dinner plates get cleared away, more conversation is exchanged and dessert is eventually served, some kind of flourless chocolate cake with a tiny little jug of warm vanilla cream beside it. Ben plans on dousing his completely. That is, until his mother stands up to clink her knife against her wine glass.  
  
“Excuse me everyone,” it’s her public speaking voice. He’s pretty sure someone in the room’s shit themselves. The dining hall falls silent within seconds.  
  
“I’d like to thank every one of you for joining us here this weekend and would like to formally welcome you to Ahch-To’s Temple Resort. Feel free to use and abuse the amenities as you see fit. The bar and kitchen are open for your perusal free of charge for the entirety of your stay. Please enjoy yourselves and I look forward to meeting with everyone according to the itinerary tomorrow. Thank you again and enjoy your evening.”  
  
There’s the unanimous lifting of wine glasses, cheers being mumbled, and the angel looks at him for the 25th time. Her wine glass filled with water, like his. Because wine doesn’t help a stuffy nose. She smiles _again,_ that heart shatteringly beautiful smile that can realign the stars and he can’t help but smile back.   
  
He feels a sharp sting on his bicep. His mother’s preferred method of pain infliction - a swift, nip of a pinch that packs the fore of a punch.   
  
“Ow.”  
  
“What did I tell you?” it’s his mother, getting up to leave.  
  
He sighs dejectedly and drops his head into the arm resting on the table, dumping the vanilla cream over the chocolate cake. He starts pushing the fork through the mess, breaking the cake into pieces having suddenly lost his appetite.  
  
Rose fills his mother’s seat almost instantly.  
  
“Hey Ben,” she greets him cheerily, “how are you doing?”  
  
What did he do in this life or a past one to deserve this torture? One half of his personal demons has sniffed him out for … what … another pep talk about getting his dick wet? Is she going to try to get him in bed with Rey? Because he’s not sure he’d be willing or able to contest that offer now.  
  
“Uh, fine?”  
  
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to ask earlier. We were just so busy checking in. Armie told me you … had a bit of a rough patch. You feeling better?”  
  
The meddling never fucking ends, does it. Well, _was_ he?  
  
“Don’t really know yet.”  
  
“He told me you found your soulmate. How’s that going?” she has a glint in her eye, like she’s hiding something from him. Aww fuck, hackles rising. He rolls his eyes to suppress his growing annoyance.   
  
“Hey,” Rose says, her tone gentle, motherly even as she places her hand on his forearm softly. The touch effectively pauses the meticulous destruction of what he’s sure would have otherwise been a delicious chocolate cake.   
  
“I have a feeling things are turning around for you.”  
  
There these fucks go again, full of cryptic messages. It doesn’t help that Rose looks like she’s suppressing some kind of smirk that’s a mixture of mischievous and warm.  
  
“Rose, I’ve had enough of this bullshit from you and Hux. Please, _please_ , just leave it alone?”  
  
He’s been officially reduced to begging, but he’s really willing to do anything to get these two off his back if just for the night.  
  
She nods but smiles at him softly nonetheless.   
  
“And, if at all possible ... please, _please_ , try not to get me laid this weekend?”  
  
At that Rose’s expression falls a little. Confirmation. They _were_ planning it. Those fuckers! He resigns to his fate of having meddling friends, an angel’s eyes forever out of reach, and his mother’s threats looming over him. His fork restarts the assault on dessert.  
  
“Hey Ben?”   
  
_For God’s sake Rose, take a hint and get lost.  
  
_ “Yeah?”  
  
“Can … can I see it?”  
  
 _What the fuck?  
  
_ “See what?” he asks, but he doesn’t really need to. The tone, the topic of conversation, he knows she’s asking to see his mark. Why the fuck not. What was the phrase? Hakuna Matata?  
  
He lets the fork clatter onto the plate and leans back, cocking his eyebrow at her, checking for ulterior motives. She doesn’t seem to have one, just curiosity from what he can tell. _Fine!  
  
_ Ben huffs and pushes the sleeve of his sweater up above his elbow, dropping his forearm on the table with an inelegant huff. Like he’s at a blood clinic ready to donate, getting down to business. He’s kind of tired of this bullshit and he’s of half a mind to remind her that _this_ is what their fucking speed dating experience was like. Like a livestock auction. He really hasn’t forgiven them for that yet, and he should, but he can’t seem to have it in him when their attempts at whoring him out seem to be intensifying.  
  
Her eyes trace over the expanse of tattoos but don’t seem to linger anywhere. She can’t see it, of course she can’t. He’d picked the design for exactly that purpose, he’d _meant_ to bury it. Fuck he was an idiot.  
  
He traces the outline with his other finger, circling the wings. He notices it’s tender to the touch, a rather new development. Then there’s a gasp. Rose reaches for it, touching it, her eyes bright. He sees a tear roll down her face, but she doesn’t say anything more after that. Hux comes to collect her, to go back and fuck like rabbits he assumes.   
  
“Let’s leave Ben to … mingle.”  
  
His eyes drift up to find the only person he’d like to mingle with, but the angel is gone.

  
  


[x]

  
  


Ben needs to clear his head again. It’s a cool evening on the island and most everyone has retreated to their huts after a long day of travelling. So he changes into some sweats, a t-shirt and a hoodie to go for a run around the island. Exercise will do him good. It’ll help relieve the pent up energy that’s been building since dinner. Since he’d seen her again. Maybe it’ll help him wear off the intense itch to go see her, talk to her, touch her.   
  
It almost works. His feet pound the soft gravel and he spends an hour running the trail in circumference of the island. It almost works only because when he’s done and cooling down on the way back he sees a flash of white on the lookout deck by his batch of huts.   
  
Each series of huts has one of these. A large deck overlooking the ocean, large enough for a dinner gathering. They’re wooden decks right on the edge of the cliff with built in lights and Muskoka chairs strewn about.  
  
Tonight, an angel sits in one of those chairs, wrapped in a white blanket or a scarf, he can’t tell, that gleams against the ambient lighting. Does she ever not glow?  
  
She’s curled up tightly in her blanket with only her head and hand peeking out. Hair blowing wistfully in the wind and her hand clutching The Alchemist. On a small side table beside her, he notices a paper plate with cinnamon buns. That makes him blink dumbly a few times.  
  
He _should_ walk away. _Should_ go back to his hut and take a cold fucking shower. Also, he probably stinks. But he’s physically incapable of moving in a direction that isn’t hers once his senses have honed in on her. So one foot before the other, he closes the distance, heart racing long after he’s cooled down from his run.  
  
She must sense his approach because he sees her spine stiffen, her head jerk up from the book then turn towards him. It’s not that he was trying to sneak up on her or be quiet, his footfalls were audible, heavy even. He planned on clearing his throat to not startle her. Except she sensed him first, like she’d spent more time than he cares to dwell on watching her back.  
  
But then their eyes meet and _oh_ forming thoughts is nigh impossible because there it is. The angel smiles at him for the 26th time tonight.   
  
“Hi,” she all but whispers.  
  
“Hi,” he returns just as quietly.  
  
Ben doesn’t miss the way this smile looks like it’s only for him. The way her eyes crinkle in the corners, accompanied by a slow blink that widens it impossibly further. The way it seems to brighten her whole face. The way her body turns towards him, like it can’t be helped, just as he’s helpless towards her. He doesn’t miss the pretty blush creeping up her neck and mottling her cheeks in the dim light or the way she seems to tremble for a split second beneath that blanket.  
  
“You uh…” he points at the book like an inarticulate fucking caveman, “book, the uh … reading Alchemist.”  
  
Her smile broadens. It’s incredible really, like the gates of heaven opening to accept him with fanfare. His brain is all but scrambled, neurons firing in every direction frying his circuits.  
  
“A little birdie told me it provided exceptional wisdom.”  
  
Damn, if he isn’t preening, knowing said little birdie she’s referring to is himself.  
  
“You … uh…”  
  
God damnit Ben words, find them, _use_ them.  
  
“Want some company? I mean … no probably not, you’re reading. _Shit_ . I’m sorry Rey,” he sounds like a complete dunce, not the President of a publicly traded company, but the words just keep coming. Like the articulation dam he’d had around her just crashed, unleashing a cacophony of incoherence.  
  
“I’ll just … uh … go there, to … hut. I’ll go. Good night Rey.”  
  
 _Fuck_ this is embarassing. He turns glumly ready to accept his fate that he officially looks a fool.  
  
“Stay,” he hears her whisper giving him pause, then she clears her throat, “it’s alright, stay. I wouldn’t mind the company.”  
  
He turns back around, probably grinning like a buffoon again because she laughs anxiously before they settle into quietly drinking each other in. It’s a moment of quiet, a moment of peace, just enjoying the existence of the other. Another shiver wracks her body. Shit she’s probably cold.  
  
“Here,” he gestures to her then begins stripping out of his hoodie, the stench of it from his earlier run completely forgotten. The need to take care of her is overwhelming, “you’re cold.”  
  
Ben inches forward to stand beside her, holding out his sweater like a puppy holding a squeak toy. She, equally doe eyed, lets the blanket pool around her waist reaching for it with shaky hands. She’s wearing what look like pajama pants and a tank top. He sees her forearm again and a pang jolts his system. No mark. That doesn’t stop him though. A stupid fucking mark isn’t going to stop him from following his heart. Which right now is _screaming_ for her.  
  
Her small fingers close on the sweater and he relinquishes it to her perusal, turning to take a seat in the adjacent muskoka chair. He watches her shimmy into the hoodie, _not_ admiring how she practically swims in it, before pulling the blanket back around herself.  
  
“You … want one?” she nods towards the cinnamon buns.  
  
“I-I’m alright. They’re yours.”  
  
She laughs and pushes the plate towards him.  
  
“It’s my third plate. Leia said we could have anything, so I went a little nuts on desserts.”  
  
He cocks his eyebrow, _third plate_ ? So she can keep up with an insatiable brute like himself?  
  
“Uh, you’re sure?”  
  
She nods, eyes glittering, “positive.”  
  
“Thank _fuck_ ! Cinnamon buns are my favourite.”  
  
He doesn’t say _you’re_ my favourite. Or can I eat you instead. Or I bet you smell like cinnamon buns. Or thank you for breaking the awkwardness. Instead he takes a cinnamon bun and sets about demolishing it in one bite, moaning and the tangy flavours that manage to cut through his stuffy nose.  
  
His outburst and contentment seem to have lightened the mood because he hears her giggle, leaving them both a little more relaxed around one another.  
  
“Reading by the ocean is so serene,” she turns to face the water which shimmers under the moonlight.  
  
“How come,” he starts between bites of the second cinnamon bun, “how come you’ve never seen the ocean? Where’d you grow up?”  
  
She blinks at him a few times, as if considering whether to share openly or not. He doesn’t miss how her eyes trail the expanse of his exposed arm, like she’s looking for his mark. Why would an unmarked woman be looking for one? Oh, maybe she feels bad about pursuing men that are, for all intents and purposes, claimed. He wishes he didn’t have a soulmate mark right now.  
  
“I … uh, the south. A small town in the south called Jakku.”  
  
Huh. Interesting.  
  
“With a last name like Niima? I would have thought you grew up in London.”  
  
Their eyes meet and she looks confused, furrowing her brows so prettily.  
  
“Niima … the umm, Lady Niima. Saint of orphans and castaways. She was from London England.”  
  
“Oh,” she titters uncomfortably looking away, out towards the sound of waves, “I had no idea. But, no, I … never knew my parents. I grew up in foster care. My last name comes from the … uh … the orphanage I was transferred to in Jakku. Be- because I didn’t have one.”  
  
His heart shatters again.

  
  



	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He waits patiently for everyone else to file out and head down the trail head, waiting for the one person he’s looking forward to being around. Waiting for his center of gravity to appear. In her orbit everything feels better, whole._
> 
> _His mother walks out with the lawyers, Hux and Rose giving him a look. She moseys over to where he’s standing and slaps his forearm._
> 
> _“Benjamin Solo if you’re waiting to hit on Rey, so help me God, I will disown you.”_
> 
> _Dammit Ma!_
> 
> _His hackles are rising. He’s had her help and look how that turned out. Sure she was following textbook protocol on soulmate marks but she has no fucking idea how he feels. How magnetic this is, how this can’t be anything other than what it obviously is. Her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's peel a few more layers off this onion, shall we?

It’s 6:00 AM on Saturday morning and the rays of the rising sun bathe the waters of the Atlantic in a beautiful gradient of colour. Muted oranges, magentas and plums glitter and dance over the cresting waves. Ben’s made an espresso with the fancy in-room coffee maker and is sitting by the windows thinking. Of the one he  _ shouldn’t _ be thinking about, but can’t help  _ not _ thinking about.  
  
She’s an orphan, growing up in that shithole Jakku. Under Plutt no less. Plutt, who used to do runs for the Knights of Ren in the south. Before Cardo had found the Scavenger, Kira, that is. He takes another sip of his espresso slipping easily into memories of their conversation.

  
  
“Wow Rey, I’m … sorry…”  
  
“No it’s alright. Everyone’s got their burden to bear. I never knew my parents. Your mother is Leia,” she quirked her lips at him, though ruefully. He couldn’t help humm back approvingly. At some point after sitting with her, he’d stopped counting their shared smiles. He knew she was trying to lighten the mood with her quip about his mother, like she’d tried the first time they’d talked on the phone. Correction, she’d talked … he’d been a total ass.  
  
“So … you grew up at the orphanage?’  
  
“Aah, no. Foster care. I had an … interesting foster father.”  
  
He nodded, slipping the last cinnamon bun in his mouth making his cheeks bulge comically. At that she’d tilted her head smiling. Like she was proud of herself for feeding him. Well she should have been. She did. She single handedly procured his favourite food of all time.   
  
She’d snuggled deeper into the blanket and turned back towards the ocean contemplatively. Somehow, knowing she’d grown up in Jakku he understands how Ahch-To would be too cold for her. To him it was just balmy, but the way she snuggled into the layers told him it might as well be winter to her. He wished he’d have more layers to give her and quickly tamped down the need to give her the physical shirt off his back.  
  
“Unkar was ... not nice,” she began, “he had quite a few ventures but only gave us the barest of minimums. I can’t ever remember having new shoes.”   
  
At that she glanced down at her dainty flats strewn on the deck and Ben made a promise to himself he’d buy her every pair of shoes available on the market.  _ God dammit Ben stop it!  
  
_ “One of his ventures was a junkyard. That’s how I got into cars. They were always just there, abandoned and in need of a little elbow grease. I eventually developed a penchant for mechanics. It’s how I knew so much about yours. Though that came from a passion for automobiles, not that I’d ever seen an electric vehicle at the junkyard.”  
  
Unkar?  _ The _ Unkar? As in Unkar Plutt the asshole who got his foster kids to pack the drugs? As in … the guy who justified that act by conceding their fingers were nimbler and smaller?  
  
“It was there that I learned how much I loved reading. No matter how shitty my life was I could always find comfort in a book. Find a happy ending. Pretend I was there. I’d sneak a book and hide in an old car and just read for hours,” she sighs, “what about you? How come you’re such an avid reader?”  
  
Reading? He doesn’t want to talk about reading. He wants to ferret out more information about her time under the thumb of that sewer rat. Hopefully she didn’t suffer when Plutt had lost his income from the Knights of Ren. Then again, how old would that have made Rey at the time … 18? She would have been old enough to leave so maybe not. It sounds like the was spared the job of packing though.  
  
“I uh …” he leaned back in his chair collecting his thoughts, “Remember how I said I was raised by nannies? Well I too wanted a happy ending. Where the protagonists wind up finding what they’re looking for. I guess we were both looking for an escape.”  
  
Then she’d given him that soul crushing smile again and he just couldn’t help what had come out next.  
  
“How long were you with Plutt?”  
  
She cocked her head at him, her eyes had grown wider, her spine stiffer and she’d started scanning his arms again. This time a little more obviously. He didn’t mind. As long as her eyes were on him he’d let her man a torture rack and strap  _ himself _ into it.  
  
“I … I never said his last name.”  
  
And that had doused the sweetness of the moment. He’d felt a wave of panic overtake him at having ruined the moment, but she seemed determined to remain in pleasant conversation. So she steered back into neutral territory asking about the shitty dates Rose & Hux were responsible for.  
  
From there, they’d spent god knows how long talking comfortably, naturally. He’d told her about the shitty dates, how wrong the one with Kaydel felt, how they’d sent him on that speed date. She laughed and told her about Snap and how he’d tried to get in her pants. That had made him want to break something until she’d told him how she slapped Wexley and that made triumph bubble in his chest. She told him how she’d lectured Snap when he insinuated she was down for a fuck just because she was unmarked. How ridiculous that notion is that unmarked women couldn’t find happiness. Besides she didn’t want to confirm she was marked.  
  
That one made his heart skip a beat - it confirmed she  _ does _ have a soulmate mark.  _ She has a soulmate mark _ !  
  
Then they joked about asking the book philosophical questions. They’d each taken a turn at opening the book randomly for insight into their current state. In hindsight it was a terrible idea.  
  
His was: ‘ _ So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you. _ ”  
  
That had blanketed them in a quiet heaviness. She’d shaken it off, smiled awkwardly and offered to read hers with mock cheer. That had turned out no better.  
  
‘ _ This is what we call love. When you are loved, you can do anything in creation. When you are loved, there’s no need at all to understand what’s happening, because everything happens within you.’  
  
_ They’d given up on consulting the book after that. The passages were too ladened with meaning for two people who were still working through their anxieties around each other. Instead, they settled into a discussion about books: To Kill A Mockingbird, then Brave New World, and finally everything Charles Dickens.  
  
Then they’d talked about their pets, he told her about Chewie when he was a puppy, how his father had shown up with him after a trip to Alaska, and she told him about how she acquired Maz who was well beyond kittenhood when Rey adopted her.  
  
She started nodding off and as much as he’d wanted to stay and tease out information about her mark, maybe convince her to show him, to somehow keep this moment going forever, he’d done what was best for her.   
  
Gently brushing her hair from her forehead after she’d fallen asleep, fingertips tingling all the while from just the contact, he’d murmured it was time for bed. She obliged, wobbling sleepily to her hut. Ben didn’t miss how natural it felt to see her off to bed, even if it wasn’t his own. Like a perfect gentleman, he’d walked her back all the way to her door. Not because his mother’s etiquette lessons dictated it, but because not being near her was becoming more painful than ever.  
  
  
  
Now, watching the sun rise over the water he wonders - if she doesn’t have a mark on her neck or her forearm, where is it? Is that why his own hasn’t stopped itching since she’d gotten off that bus?  
  
No, he sighs, he’s going to figure it out instead of spend his time in contemplation. Ben decides to head for breakfast, downing the rest of his espresso and getting dressed quickly. He’ll talk to her again soon and then he’ll ask her.   
  
As he strolls down the path lined with tall pines, he thinks he’s seen an unusual soulmate mark placement before...

  
  


[x]

_ His uncle had smacked his shoulder with a reed, some kind of educational tool he believed in using while teaching meditation on Ahch-To. Really it was his ‘Jedi’ equivalent to the ruler. Luke was trying to teach him to let go, to let the emotions flow off him. Like feelings were something evil to be excised.   
  
_ _ “There is no emotion, there is peace,” his uncle reminded him.  
  
_ _ Ben was tired of being forced to feel nothing. He felt  _ too much _ if anything. This was doing the exact opposite of what Luke wanted. Summers spent here made him want to run away, they spiked his anxiety and emotional instability. They made him want to break something just to feel a spike in sensation.  
  
_ _ One night, 14 years ago, his uncle showed up in his hut to tell him he would make a terrible Jedi. The conviction in his voice left no room for interpretation - he’d meant he’d never be able to call himself a follower. He was a failure in his uncle’s eyes as much as his mother’s. She would for sure call him a disappointment when Luke inevitably told her.  
  
_ _ Not that he’d cared. Ben had been disappointing his mother since he could talk, being a disappointment was second nature to him. So he’d just packed his shit and sneaked onto the next ferry off the island while his uncle was off meditating or something. He had a few hundred bucks his mom stuffed into his bags which should get him home. He was 20 anyway, wouldn’t need nannies anymore so he’d just sneak back into the house and spend the remainder of the summer reading before having to take his mother’s disappointed frown like he took every other one she threw him.  
  
_ _ He never did make it home. At the bus terminal he met a guy named Ren, sitting at the bar having a whiskey. The busses were delayed so they’d struck up a conversation while Ben drank a flat coke to which Ren had generously donated some of his whiskey. It was the first time he’d had whiskey and he quite liked the mix. Conversation flowed surprisingly well with the man. He’d told Ren about how his family thought he was a failure and he couldn’t even complete his spiritual journey. Ren said he didn’t think he’d fit in anywhere either, until he found his knights. Ren had told him that everyone has a place in this world, ‘sometimes it’s not your given family but the one you chose’.  
  
_ _ He was surprisingly honest about what he did, which for some reason spiked Ben’s interest. Maybe it was the promise of adventure, or the promise of a rush which he was in desperate need of. He only mildly regrets boarding the wrong bus. Only mildly regrets choosing Ren. Ben learned so much from him it’s hard to paint him in a bad light to this day.   
  
_ _ Ren had given him the name Kylo, a blend of his grandfather’s last name S _ **_ky_ ** _ walker and his father’s So _ **_lo_ ** _. He’d taught him how to ride a motorcycle, how to build bulk at the gym. How to protect his real identity. He’d taught him how to intimidate. How to dominate. How to run the shady business and keep territories in check. Ren had taken him under his wing like a son, giving him the sense of belonging he’d wanted all his life. So Ben had stuck around, finding the sliver of family he’d always wanted under Ren’s watchful eye.  
  
_ _ He learned how to do the dirty jobs. Ren even introduced him to a guy he called The Emperor who only communicated through Ren’s second phone. That was the big kahuna. The guy who provided their product. Ren was grooming him to take his place and Ben had no idea until it was too late.  
  
_ _ One day, three years later just before he’d turn 24, he got a call from The Emperor informing him that Ren and his soulmate had died in a motorcycle accident and he would be the successor. The call had surprised Ben for 2 reasons: Ren  _ never _ took chances on the road, the man was a speed demon but he only took calculated risks. And most surprisingly, that Ren was soulmated. The knights were all unmarked from what he knew. Then again, most of Ren’s upper body was covered in tattoos so maybe his mark was hidden in there somewhere.  
  
_ _ Ben cleaned up Ren’s office per the Emperor’s request, it would become his own from that day on. He took to the role naturally thanks to Ren’s teachings but something had felt off. Like a splinter in his mind that wouldn’t dislodge.  
  
_ _ He’d gone and gotten a sleeve himself to bury his mark the way Ren did, threw himself into the role of the Master of the Knights. Threw himself into Kylo Ren, hid his face permanently from anyone’s view all the while combing through old Ren’s stuff to settle a hunch that his passing was by foul play.  
  
_ _ When he finally found an old flip phone in a hidden compartment of Ren’s desk and managed to charge it, he saw what would put a chink in the veneer of the new life he’d built. He saw what would turn him cynical of the surprisingly idyllic existence he’d settled into. _

REN:  _ Baby I’m getting out  
  
_ BAZINE:  _ How?  
  
_ REN:  _ I got us new IDs, we’re moving out of the country  
  
_ REN: _ We’re starting a new life, just the 2 of us  
  
_ BAZINE:  _ I love you baby _

_ The messages were dated the day of his death. They’d never get to start that life. In the same drawer with the phone he found a polaroid of Ren hugging a tall slender woman with a sleek black ponytail. They were at a pool party grinning at each other lovingly. On her thigh was a very clear soulmate mark. It was white a sign she’d found her soulmate, comprised of a series of circular squiggles that looked like they were on fire.  
  
_ Bazine’s soulmate’s mark wasn’t on her forearm or neck, it was on her thigh. Maybe Rey’s is there.

  
  


[x]

  
  


He barely gets to enjoy breakfast because he’s pulled into a series of meetings that he’s not an active participant in. Mostly, he’s just there to listen in, offer input or clarification. None are with Rey. Maybe that’s a good thing because focusing would be absolutely impossible with the way he itches to ask, to touch.  
  
Lunch is catered into the meeting rooms and once they’re finished team members start filing out for the joint company hike. Ben is ecstatic for only one reason - he’ll get to spend time with Rey.  
  
Groups start forming outside of the main building and for a split second he’s under the impression Kaydel is about to try to strike up a conversation before he sees her beeline ahead to join Mitaka and Zorii on the trail.   
  
_ Thank God _ .  
  
He waits patiently for everyone else to file out and head down the trail head, waiting for the one person he’s looking forward to being around. Waiting for his center of gravity to appear. In her orbit everything feels better, whole.  
  
His mother walks out with the lawyers, Hux and Rose giving him a look. She moseys over to where he’s standing and slaps his forearm.  
  
“Benjamin Solo if you’re waiting to hit on Rey, so help me God, I will disown you.”  
  
Dammit Ma!   
  
His hackles are rising. He’s had her help and look how that turned out. Sure she was following textbook protocol on soulmate marks but she has no fucking idea how he feels. How magnetic this is, how this can’t be anything other than what it  _ obviously _ is.  _ Her _ .   
  
This, he needs to figure out on his own and his mother cutting in does  _ not _ fit into his plans.  
  
“First of all, I don’t need your money…”  
  
Luckily Hux, blessedly in tune with his emotions and body language, breaks the tension.   
  
“Leia, I’d like to talk some more about the budgets if you wouldn’t mind joining me?”  
  
Leia nods, falling back on her etiquette of the high horse demeanor, schooling her face into pleasant business demeanor but her eyes glint back at him with venom. ‘ _ Don’t you try it Ben _ ’ they say. Suck a lemon Ma, he thinks.  
  
Hux gives him a knowing glance and an almost imperceptible nod. Like the fucker knows who he’s waiting for and is giving him the stage. Yet there’s none of his usual snydeness, none of the usual demeanor that tips Ben off his friend has ulterior motives.  
  
When they’re finally out of sight and he’s resigned to sitting alone on a bench waiting, when he’s starting to wonder if he’d made a crucial calculation error and starts thinking about other exits around the compound, his angel walks out the front door.  
  
She’s beaming,  _ fucking beaming _ at him with those big shiny hazel eyes.  
  
“Ben! I’m so glad you waited.”  
  
_ For you, I’d wait a lifetime,  _ his heart whispers.

  
  


—————————————————- 

  
  


He waited for her.   
  
While everyone else had fucked off on the hike, she’d been left collecting the meeting notes, stuffing them into Poe’s bag because he and Finn wanted to jog ahead of everyone else. To ‘take in the hike without the sucky crowd’ as Finn put it. So she’d done her best to hurry, to catch Ben, because that’s who she really wants to talk to. The  _ only _ person she’s interested in talking to and almost turns around to go back to her hut when she sees the last of the group disappear down the trail head. He wasn’t there. Everyone left her. The way her parents left her. Discarded like an insignificant nobody.  
  
Except when she stepped outside, sitting on a bench by the door in running shoes, ripped black jeans and a black henley, was none other than her Ben Solo. She’s not really sure when she’d started thinking of him as  _ hers _ , but that’s neither here nor there. He’d waited. That’s what counted.  
  
Rey heaved a sigh of gratitude, tears threatening to spill. He would never know just how much that meant to her. It wasn’t just a company hike she’d been left behind on. It was her whole life and this simple act of waiting gave her a sense of hope, of belonging.   
  
_ You’re not alone. Neither are you _ . Words echoing in her mind.  
  
“Ben! I’m so glad you waited.”  
  
She swiped at her eyes feigning fatigue to blot out the dangerous pools collecting in the corners and smiled at him. He returned it the way he had the night before at dinner, on the deck, the way he’d returned  _ every single one _ of her smiles, standing up to his full height.  
  
“Shall we?” he extends his covered right arm towards her. Oh, how she wants him to roll up his sleeve, to see those tattoos again. The ones she’d eyed at least half a dozen times last night. The ones that dredge up memories she can’t place, that give her a sense of deja vu. So instead of thinking too deeply, she slides her hand into his palm.   
  
Touching him skin to skin is akin to an out of body experience. The minute their fingers touch she feels the world melt around her, sounds seem to dampen and a jolt of electricity snakes through her hand, concentrating in her lower back. It’s intense, like being struck by lightning and he must have felt it too because both their hands jerk back as if burned.  
  
They stare at one another dumbly, her hand reaching to rub circles over her lower back, his rubbing furiously at his forearm.  
  
_ What just happened?  
  
_ A throat clears behind them.  
  
“Excuse me, Sir? Madam? Will you be joining the guests on the hike as well? Or may I offer you refreshments in the lobby?”  
  
One of the resort attendants has materialized from seemingly thin air, she can’t really be sure because for a split-second, she’s certain she wasn’t on earth.  
  
“No... No thank you that won’t be necessary. We’ll be along,” Ben tells the attendant then looks back at her with what she can only place as incredulity.  
  
He’d saved her from the attendant, the least she can do is help him along now. Right? Steeling herself she nods towards the trail, “right, ready then?”  
  
So they start walking amiably, still dazed but falling back into quiet conversation. She learns his favourite colour is green, like herself. She learns he knows how to ride a motorcycle. That he likes  _ real _ champagne not  _ sparkling wine _ as he puts it with an adorable frown. That he’s practically watched every documentary on Netflix. She learns that his father is an archeologist. She learns that he and Armitage grew up together, that Armitage received the brunt of the school bully’s wrath, that Ben was responsible for joining the soulmates, that he has investors in the company he’s trying to buy out.   
  
All the while she rubs her lower back from time to time which is tingling  _ hard _ . He seems to notice but never moves to comment. She also notices him rubbing his forearm but returns the favour, not asking despite the question dancing at the tip of her tongue. Because she really can’t breathe right now. It feels like too much and not enough all at once. She needs the distance to clear her head, figure out what this all means, even though her hindbrain is  _ screaming _ the answer at her.   
  
_ It’s him _ . _ Your soulmate _ .  _ Stop fighting it _ .  
  
“Rey …” he starts after a long silence has passed, “Do you … when Snap assumed you were unmarked, why…”  
  
And there she stops dead in her tracks. Because this is it, isn’t it? She’s barely gotten comfortable sharing her defective soulmate mark with others. But showing  _ him _ , the man who made it tingle and burn, that was facing something she wasn’t ready to admit. Does she expose herself now? To someone whose mark she hasn’t seen? He has to have one, why else would he be rubbing his forearm like that? Unless it’s just his allergies. No that can’t be right, he sounded so sad when he’d told her about not having a mate all those months ago.  
  
Then again, she hadn’t seen a soulmate mark on him, so he can’t have one. Can he? But if hers isn’t visible, why would his be? Her soulmate would be as special as she, right? That’s what her social worker Maz had said. The writing is all but on the wall, if only she could scent him. What if it  _ is _ him…  
  
“Benjamin! So glad we found you my boy. Amilyn here was telling your mother and I about a few accounting tricks to deal with the buyout,” it’s one of the lawyers walking back towards the main building with the two women in tow.   
  
“Canady,” his voice shifts from the gentle tone he’d been addressing her with to a tighter one, “finished the trail already?”  
  
“Oh nonsense Benjamin. Us older folk just can’t keep up with the youth. I’m sure the lookout is marvellous from the top but our legs just can’t carry us that far anymore. Say, you should join us to go over Amilyn’s suggestions. Pryde will be joining shortly too.”  
  
Rey’s heart sinks. She doesn’t belong in this exchange. These are seasoned business men and women, the top echelons in their respective companies discussing things well above her pay grade. She’s no one, a simple copywriter. She should excuse herself meekly and trudge along, leaving them to discuss important matters with Ben.  _ The _ Ben who may or may not be her soulmate.  _ The _ Ben who, until a few moments ago was just Ben, but now is the President of First Order.  
  
“I …” he begins to stutter while Rey remains rooted to her spot on the trail, loneliness closing in around her dark and foreboding, “was in the middle of a conversation, actually.”  
  
He’s … he’s not rejecting her. He’s  _ choosing _ her? There’s a flutter in her chest, hope in the form of light growing to tamp out the darkness.  
  
Leia walks over and grasps his arm in a grip a touch too harsh and yanks him along, smiling back at everyone sweetly, “he’s just being a gentleman, aren’t you Benny? Rey you’ll be alright catching up with the group ahead?”  
  
She doesn’t miss the helpless look in his eyes that begs for her forgiveness, or the right predatory one in Leia’s as she backhands his bicep. She doesn’t miss the hopeful glances of Amilyn and the lawyer. So she simply nods, swallowing the knot that’s lodged in her throat as they brush past her.  
  
She doesn’t know how long she stands there, unmoving, only that when she’s completely alone on the trail her feet carry her numbly back to her hut.

  
  


[x]

  
  


Rey is standing in front of the windows of her hut watching the waves crash out on the open ocean, groups of seabirds diving and floating above. She’s casually sipping her electrolyte water after downing her antibiotic pill, thinking of the only thing she’s been able to think of since arriving here:  _ Ben _ .  
  
Ben who is in some meeting right now after asking her an incredibly personal question. Ben who makes her soulmate mark flare. Ben who  _ waited _ for her, who _ chose _ to stay with her, even if it hadn’t quite worked out that way.  
  
Would she? Have shown him?   
  
Her self-preservation instincts would deign that no, she wouldn’t have. She would have run in the opposite direction because the way she feels about him is dangerous, he could break her heart. If he saw her mark and it didn’t match his, wherever it is, it would shatter her. But then, she  _ hadn’t _ run. It had become physically impossible for her to leave him.  
  
She swirls a sip of water in her mouth considering. No, she would have shown him, because it’s  _ him _ . It  _ has _ to be. Right?  
  
What was that passage that made her heart stutter and him choke last night when they were talking?  
  
_ ‘This is what we call love. When you are loved, you can do anything in creation. When you are loved, there’s no need at all to understand what’s happening, because everything happens within you.’  
  
_ That was awkwardly intimate, except, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was that clairvoyant fucking book telling her to look inside. Because if she does, she really doesn’t need to understand, it’s already happening within her.  
  
This is too much. She checks the time on the alarm clock on the nightstand. 3:04 PM. Ben’s probably still talking with the lawyer, Leia and Amilyn. She’ll see him at dinner and show him her mark then. That’s non-negotiable now. Until then, though, the resort had a perfectly good outdoor hot tub which she fully intends to take advantage of. Rifling through her bag, she all but tilts it on its head looking for a bathing suit, certain she’d packed one.  
  
_ Fuck _ she knew she’d forgotten something. Stupid headache. Stupid ibuprofen.  
  
She picks up her phone to text Rose, maybe there’s a spare suit to be had. Except they’re on a fucking island with no reception.  _ Bloody hell _ .  
  
Rey does the next best thing, she reaches for the in-room telephone and punches in Rose’s hut number. It rings a few times before the line connects.  
  
“Hello?” Rose is panting heavily into the speaker.  _ Shit _ they were probably doing the deed. Also,  _ eww _ .  
  
“Oh fuck Rose I’m so sorry to interrupt.”  
  
“No, no what’s up babe?”  
  
“You weren’t … uh…it’s not important. I’m  _ so  _ sorry.”  
  
“Rey? Just say.”  
  
“No I just ... was hoping to use the hot tub but I forgot my bathing suit. Definitely not important.”  
  
It’s quiet on the line for a few moments. Like Rose is considering whether clothing her for a dip was more or less important than humping her soulmate.  
  
“Say no more fam. Be right there.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting there! I'm of half a mind to pause after the next chapter, finish everything, then post it all at once. I know the suspense is killing you as much as me ... and I have the notes. LMK what you guys think about taking that route. Short term pain for long term gain.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Is this really why you came in running?”_
> 
> _“I wasn’t running.”_
> 
> _“Oh really?” he jokingly prods his friend’s red blotchy cheeks, “because it looks like you’ve been running.”_
> 
> _“Fine. I ran. Sue me,” Hux rolls his eyes in mock defeat._
> 
> _“So what’s the rush? We could be talking about this with Dopheld and my mother,” he’s goading him, prodding Armitage to relent his true reason for running himself beet red._
> 
> _“Fine,” Hux relents, “I want to talk to you about your soulmate.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the tally was surprisingly in favour of daily posting. I'm not convinced that's the route to go though so I may do a bit of a hybrid. There are going to be some chapters that make me want to claw my skin off so I may do batch releases. Notes aside ... I give you: The REVEAL!
> 
> Side note: this is what my [story looks like ATM](https://imgur.com/PtYjQmh). I had started it before even giving it a name (hence Untitled AU) and I've been too lazy to change it since. The story's still evolving of it's own accord so ... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Rose showed up at her hut exactly 10 minutes later wearing only a bathrobe and looking questionably sweaty. All pink cheeks and rumpled hair, she looked utterly debauched. Rey did  _ not _ want to imagine what was going on when she’d placed that unfortunate call. To her chagrin, Rose also showed up holding what can only be described as scraps of material with strings and some flip flops.  
  
“I believe you requested a bathing suit ma’am?”  
  
“Yes, a  _ suit _ , not … nipple covers with a side of vag patch.”  
  
Rose giggles sweetly. Something Rey is beginning to think is a bloody ruse because the woman is a menace. Clearly. Because that is  _ not _ a bathing suit.  
  
“Oh Rey, I’m sorry this is kind of the only one I brough.”  
  
Rey doesn’t believe it but let’s Rose in anyway. The conversation is already awkward enough without someone (like Ben Solo) having to witness her blush 6 ways from Sunday.  
  
“It’s really not so bad,” Rose huffs, throwing herself onto Rey’s bed.   
  
She’d like to ask Rose to get off the bed, God knows what kind of bodily fluids are all over that robe. Fluids she’d like to have  _ nowhere near _ her place of rest, thank you very much. Instead she just eyes the scraps of ‘swimming fabric’ Rose pushed into her hands wearily.  
  
It’s a white triangle top and matching skimpy bottom. If that was it, Rey could have lived. Mortified, but lived. But no, the bikini has these gaudy gold and rhinestone encrusted rings that connect the strings to the … scraps … meant to cover her. And the straps are gold.  _ And _ there’s odd cutouts in places that expose some questionable patches of skin Rey deigns to be very personal areas. The entire thing screams exotic dancer. Actually, the entire thing screams Rose-has-a-plan, but that’s neither here nor there.  
  
She cocks her eyebrow and looks at Rose.  
  
“What?” her friend questions with a mischievous smirk.  
  
“This … is  _ not _ a bathing suit,” she waves the scraps at Rose, punctuating it with an undignified groan.  
  
“No. It’s a  _ bi-ki-ni _ .”  
  
“Rose! We’re on a business retreat,” she squeaks back indignantly.  
  
“It’s Beach Bunny. That’s ritzy enough,” Rose dismisses her waving her hand in the air.  
  
“Ritzy maybe, but professional? Not in the slightest,” she can’t help the eye roll she lets loose with that. The only way this is professional is if your line of work  _ happens _ to be escorting.  
  
“No one’s gonna see it babe. Everyone’s in meetings or napping after that hike. Besides, you’ll be under water!”  
  
Rose makes a solid point. Everyone  _ is _ currently in the lull between meetings and dinner. Most people are probably enjoying some down time before having to socialize again, with the exception of Ben who’s probably still with Amilyn, Leia and the lawyer. Oh fuck it. What’s the saying again? Hakuna Matata.  
  
“Fine,” she concedes to an ecstatic Rose, “but we’re going to have a talk about your swimwear when we get back. This is not swimwear.”  
  
She holds up the bikini by its strings again to make her point, “this is exotic dancewear.”  
  
“Potato, Potaahto,” Rose smiles heading to the door, “I’ve got to get back to my afternoon … siesta.”  
  
“ROSE!”  
  
But Rose skips out of her hut giggling before she could be properly chastised.  
  
Well then. How do you even put this thing on?   
  
Rey spends all of 10 minutes trying to decipher the logistics of the swim scraps then another 15 trying to shimmy into them. Rose apparently believes in leaving her bottoms untied, a nightmare jigsaw puzzle to her already skimpy problem. But she manages to persevere, so she throws on her sweater and her leggings, grabs a fluffy bath towel, slips into Rose’s flip flops then heads to the main lobby for a soak.

  
  


—————————————————- 

  
  


There’s a loud slam which jolts him awake. He’d been taking a cat nap after Rose left. She’d been grinning like a demented cat,  _ his _ demented cat, when she left. The little minx.  
  
The mattress dips and he feels her weight settle over his groin. Now  _ this _ is his favourite way to wake up.  
  
"Armie you gotta get up. Gotta get Ben.”  
  
Ben? What? He’s not in the mood to think about Ben, he wants to do all kinds of naughty things to his beautiful soulmate. His hands grasp her knees and start brushing up her thighs beneath her robe ignoring her beseeching tone.   
  
She swats him away.  
  
“Armie, I’m serious!” she whines.  
  
He groans in frustration, opening his eyes to meet her pleading ones.  
  
“What is it Rosie?”  
  
She leans down to kiss him sweetly, something he’ll  _ never _ get enough of. Her tiny hands moving to cradle his jaw the way he’s learned to love.  
  
“Rey. I gave her the bikini. She’s going to the hot tub. You gotta find Ben.”  
  
Bikini. Ben. Rey. The words aren’t fitting because quite frankly, with her body straddling him, the way her robe is coming undone, the little slivers of bare skin he’s glimpsing, most of his blood has rushed to his nether regions and he’s not sure he wants to ignore his renewed vigour in favour of Ben.  
  
Ben whose soulmate is Rey. Whose soulmate mark he needs to see.  _ Fuck _ yes,  _ bikini _ ,  _ shit _ !  
  
Armitage startles up grabbing Rose’s shoulders.  
  
“She’s in the hot tub?”  
  
Rose nods.  
  
“In a bikini. Where you can see it.”  
  
Rose nods again grinning devilishly.  
  
“We need to … I need to find Ben and get him there.”  
  
“Yeah you do. You’re gonna be a big hero,” Rose’s grin turns lascivious and she starts to paw at his chest.  
  
“Rosie. I … you’re a genius!”  
  
“I know. What are you gonna do about that?”  
  
“I’m gonna go…”  
  
“In a minute babe,” she pushes him back down letting the robe pool around her waist.

  
  


[x]

  
  


“I’m surprised they haven’t figured it out yet,” Rose is sprawled across the bed tangled in bedsheets, staring at the ceiling.   
  
The original plan was simple, really. Let the soulmates find each other, the island was small enough. It would hardly be a story to tell their children if it went something like ‘well uncle Armitage and aunt Rosie dragged us into a room together and stripped our clothes to reveal our marks’. Their plan  _ had _ been to let them come together naturally. To let their love story evolve by their own hand. A plan that was clearly failing because these two were absolute idiots.  
  
“Come on Rosie, you know they’re introverts and socially awkward. They just need a little nudge.”  
  
She snorts, “you mean a full blown shove?”  
  
He can’t help laugh at that. Yeah. They need to literally be slapped together. He and Rose had considered pulling the two of them by their ears and locking them in a closet until it was done. They’re so …  _ oblivious _ . It’s mind blowing. Then again, Ben’s hidden his soulmate mark in a bunch of tattoos that make it hard to see, and hers is on a patch of skin that few occasions would expose. Maybe they should just get them drunk and lock them in one of their huts, They’ll get it on then figure it out, right?  
  
“Sure, but they’re  _ idiots _ , Rosie. When I saw you I knew  _ instantly _ . Remember?”  
  
He remembers like it was yesterday. He and Ben had been walking to The Resistance. Ben was going on a date and he thought it would break the tension if someone else would come along for the beginning, to ease into the night as he’d put it. Bring a good friend, so Armitage agreed. Except the minute he walked into the bar and their eyes met his vision started to tunnel and the world liquefied around him. All that was left was the dulled sounds of his surroundings and  _ her _ . He only feels  _ slightly _ bad that she had been Ben’s date. Then again, she is  _ his _ soulmate so…  
  
“It was instant,” he tells her wistfully.  
  
“I just don’t get it Armie, how can they be so oblivious? We made them walk together, I heard they even hiked together. Weren’t they talking on that deck last night?” her hand shoots in the general direction of the nearest lookout deck, “how have they  _ not _ already mated?”  
  
“Idiots in love.”  
  
“That’ll be the theme of their wedding,” she chortles, throwing a pair of pants at him.  
  
“What’s ours?”  
  
“Spicy,” Rose waggles her eyebrows at him.  
  
“Caliente,” he retorts shucking into his pants.  
  
Rose makes some meowing noises before shoving him off the bed.  
  
All things aside, they’d done the deed in record time. Setting up their friends was important, but not important enough to skip pleasuring each other. So Armitage pulls on a stray shirt, mismatched socks and slips into his shoes to run out the door, leaving Rose to doze in peace.  
  
He bangs on Ben’s door. Once, twice, he waits patiently but gets no response. He runs back into their hut where Rose is now snoring softly to call. The phone rings but goes unanswered. Come on Solo where the  _ fuck _ are you?  
  
His entire life Ben had been no more than a phone call away. He’d very rarely ever  _ not _ answered or been available. It’s ironic the  _ one time _ Armitage needs him for his  _ own _ good, he’s nowhere to be found. On a secluded fucking island to boot.  
  
Think, Hux,  _ think _ .  
  
Not in his hut, not answering the phone. Could be running. It’s a viable option, but then they’d just gotten back from a hike, he’d probably go for a run later, his joints aren’t what they used to be. Did he have any meetings? He searches the hut quietly so as not to wake his soulmate. The itinerary gives him nothing. Ben had been left out of scheduled meetings, mostly because Leia planned on having him dabble in a little of everything. Fuck it, maybe someone in the main building’s seen him. He lets himself out of the hut quietly then takes off towards the main building at a full sprint.   
  
Running is not a good look on him and he knows it. He’s tall, lanky, and fair skinned to boot. A fact that means any strenuous activity will leave his face mottled every shade of red. But that’s all secondary right now to getting Ben what he deserves. Maybe with this, Ben will  _ finally _ forgive him for Rose or all his attempts at getting him laid, not that he’d been successful, the guy had a mind of his own.  
  
On arrival he retches over a garbage can by the front doors, getting strange looks from the caretakers. Fuck ‘em. More pressing issues.   
  
Armitage moves into the lobby to talk to the attendant there, asking if they’d seen Mr. Solo through laboured breaths. The attendant only stared back dumbly.  
  
“Tall guy, ‘bout yea high?” he gestures an approximation of Ben’s height, “Black hair? Looks perpetually angry? Predominantly wears black?”  
  
“Aah, Benjamin?”  
  
_You know his first name but not his last? Who the fuck…_  
  
“Yes, Benjamin is in the library. Would you like me to take you, sir?”  
  
Library, of  _ course _ he’s in the library.  
  
“No, thank you I know where it is,” he does because he’d spent the odd summer here with Ben when they were younger. It was nice when they weren’t being lectured about spirituality. Not much had changed really, save a facelift to bring the main building out of the 80s and into the modern era. He shudders remembering the lime green shag carpeting in the huts.  
  
“May I get you a refreshment? Perhaps a bottle of water?”  
  
As if on cue, the attendant produces a glass bottle of water which he accepts graciously. He’ll have to leave a tip for this … ‘Artoo’ his name tag says. Is… is that the same Artoo that used to bring them grilled cheese sandwiches to their hut as kids? Dammit he doesn’t have time for this.  
  
His lungs are still burning from that sprint but he starts walking purposefully through the corridors of the building. Chugging the bottle quickly, he drops the empty off on a decorative table and takes a few measured breaths before turning to face the library.  
  
_ This is it, Hux, you can do this. We’re going to make his dreams come true. We’ve been waiting for this since we were 10.  
  
_ And there he is, Ben, his Ben. His best friend, looking surprisingly serene with an open copy of The Great Gatsby.  
  
“That’s an interesting choice,” he points at the book pinched between Ben’s thumb and index finger.  
  
Great, that’s exactly how you start the ‘ _ I know who your soulmate is and you need to come with me right now to see her before she covers herself up again because her mark is on her lower back’ _ conversation. Nice going Armitage.  
  
“A little birdie told me it was a perfect read on a weekend that never fails to take you on an emotional rollercoaster,” he looks up at him smiling languidly. Why the fuck is he smiling like that? And what little birdie is he talking about?  
  
Well, no matter. More pressing things are at hand, like that Rey’s mark is exposed to sunlight  _ right now _ and he needs Ben to see it  _ pronto _ . Get these idiots together already.  
  
“Mind taking a walk with me? I’d like to chat.”  
  
“Only if you tell me why you look like you were put together by a 3 year old,” Ben’s lips quirk up.  
  
Is he … joking with him? Is that a … smirk? What drugs did they slip into his afternoon coffee to make him so … happy? Shit did he find a bottle of whiskey? He’d  _ told _ the damn front desk to keep booze out of that hut.  
  
“I was in a rush to see you. I’d like to talk about the … uh … marketing meeting.”  
  
“That isn’t for another 15 minutes, can’t it wait until then?”  
  
Dammit he’d actually forgotten about that and would now have to most likely sit through it dressed like a wino. Armitage does  _ not _ do half-assed. He believes in being put together, even if you’re only getting the mail or grabbing your soulmate a drive-thru McFlurry. It also means that he doesn’t actually have much time, that meeting is in … shit he’s right … 15 minutes. This needs to happen  _ now _ .  
  
“If you must know, Rose and I were having sex and I was in a rush to get here. But Ben, this is important.”  
  
“Clinical. And unnecessary,” Ben sighs and puts the book down, “alright let’s take a walk.”

  
  


—————————————————- 

  
  


Hux is acting weird. Then again, he probably is too. But how can he _not_ act weird when he’s pretty much certain the angel in his life is his soulmate?   
  
He was relaxing when Hux found him, enjoying some quiet time before the last meeting of the day then he would sit with her for dinner, seating arrangement be damned. Maybe if the meeting let out early enough he might be able to bribe the staff into a private dinner in the library, just the two of them, and he could try asking again. And maybe, if she was still uncomfortable, he’d show her his mark instead, trace it with his fingers so she’d have no room to doubt. He’d put himself out there for her. Just a few more hours of patience and he’d have everything he’s needed since he was 10 - the other half of his soul because he’s convinced himself it’s _her_.  
  
Hux is leading him through the corridors, prattling about financials but not really making any sense. It’s obvious this is _not_ why he came.  
  
“Is this really why you came in running?”  
  
“I wasn’t running.”  
  
“Oh really?” he jokingly prods his friend’s red blotchy cheeks, “because it looks like you’ve been running.”  
  
“Fine. I ran. Sue me,” Hux rolls his eyes in mock defeat.  
  
“So what’s the rush? We could be talking about this with Dopheld and my mother,” he’s goading him, prodding Armitage to relent his true reason for running himself beet red.  
  
“Fine,” Hux relents, “I want to talk to you about your soulmate.”  
  
_No_. He won’t give this meddler a chance to get between them. Not now. Not when he’s so close. He’ll feign ignorance and hopefully throw Hux off the trail, buy himself just a little more time. Just until he sees her at dinner.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
They’ve made their way into the wellness corridor. A strange trajectory, he thinks to himself, but he continues to let Hux lead.  
  
“Ben, did you know that 70.4% of soulmate marks are on the forearm, 29.4% are on the neck…”  
  
“What about the other 0.2%?” he delivers cooly but his heart rate picks up a few BPM and a knot is forming in his throat. Because that’s it, isn’t it? Rey must be that 0.2%, just like Bazine had been. Bazine who had managed to find her soulmate in old Ren despite her mark being in an odd location.  
  
“Other. They’re characterised as other,” Hux opens the door to the pool area.   
  
_Why the hell are they here of all places?_   
  
“The data on these _other_ placements is practically nonexistent because they’re so rare. And once mated, most people with _other_ placements won’t bother to be part of a study,” Hux continues. It’s a delivery that seems calculated, practiced. Hux knows something. Ben swallows thickly, his mouth going dry.   
  
They’re walking the circumference of the pool to the large windows overlooking the jacuzzi deck. Maybe Hux wants to go talk about Snoke out there, it’s quiet, away from prying eyes, besides no one’s using the hot tub right now. But no, the conversation topic is his soulmate so that doesn’t fit.  
  
Except...  
  
“You see, Ben, like I said. Until a few months ago, I thought all soulmate marks were in 2 places. Turns out,” he gestures towards the jacuzzi, “I was wrong.”  
  
There, sitting in the hot tub facing out towards the water is a mass of chestnut hair he’d recognize anywhere. Rey. Her hair held up in a loose bun by a blue fucking _lightsaber pen_. His jaw must drop and hit the floor. His chest feels like it’s going to explode as his heart rate continues to climb.  
  
Ben feels Hux’s hand squeeze his shoulder, “I’ll let you two talk.”  
  
He’s not sure if Hux actually leaves or just retreats into a corner, nor does he care. He doesn’t even register that Hux had all but confirmed he knows. No, Ben’s tunnelled into her again. That _pen_.   
  
Then, miraculously, he sees her stir, lifting her shoulders above the water to step forward. She straightens up and up into a standing position to get out of the tub, her upper back clears the water. He gulps to loosen his ever tightening throat when he registers she’s wearing what has _got_ to be the tiniest bikini he’s seen in his life, minus what the dancers wore at the House of Ren. She straightens further exposing her mid back, lower back, her glorious derriere … his eyes snap back up to her lower back and he _sees it_.  
  
Right there, on her lower back, just to the left of her spine, is a familiar shape. Rounded wings, a star hilted sword. It’s her. It’s _fucking_ her.   
  
His heart is practically beating out of his chest now, he briefly presses his palm against it as if that would keep him from exploding. The surroundings melt away and he’s all but forgotten where he physically is because she’s all he sees.  
  
She’s stepping out of the tub, water glistening against her tanned, freckled skin. He sees her walk to the railing and lean against it, giving him a perfect view of the entirety of Rey.  
  
His eyes trace the outline of their shared mark, relishing in the glory of the revelation. His heart had not steered him wrong, it had been trying to guide him this whole time in _her_ direction because it’s _her_. Ben you _idiot_!  
  
He’s assaulted by a plethora of visions. Visions of snuggling her into his chest on a Friday night with Chewie at their feet and her cat on their lap. Visions of kissing her soundly every night before bed and every morning when he wakes up. Visions of shared laughter, icing on noses while baking cinnamon buns. Visions of an altar flanked by cherry blossoms and her hazel eyes peering at him through a lace veil. Visions of interlaced fingers, pressed foreheads and sweaty chests. Visions of dark haired children with freckled skin and bright hazel eyes.   
  
This is it. _This_ is the first day of the rest of his life.  
  
With shaky hands he reaches for the door to the deck. He’s ready to show her. Ready to claim her, be claimed _by_ her. To join their marks and their soul.  
  
Except Mitaka slides into the pool area in a tizzy. How is it people always seem to find him when it’s most inconvenient? How much more penance must he do?  
  
“ **Not now** Dopheld. I’m busy.”  
  
“But, sir, your mother specifically requested we start the meeting early.”  
  
“I said,” he grinds out through gritted teeth, “ _not now_.”  
  
“I’m sorry sir, her exact words were ‘drag him in or I’ll whoop his mammoth ass’. And, quite frankly, she’s terrifying.”  
  
Ben blinks at his Rey, the future just there on the horizon. If he goes out there now he won’t make the meeting. He won’t make a single meeting for the rest of the weekend. He won’t make a single meeting for months, actually.  
  
But he can’t walk in the opposite direction. His body is physically incapable of not walking towards her. His brain has joined the fray screaming at him to open the door and walk out, meetings be damned. Business be _damned_!  
  
“Mitaka, **get out**.”  
  
Apparently fate is a bitch because his mother walks in behind Dopheld, marching straight for him. She gets a single fleeting glance at Rey on the deck before her palm connects with the back of his head and her eyes bore into him, piercing with the force of a thousand knives.  
  
“Benjamin Organa-Solo, I told you to leave it. So help me God if I see your eyes on her _one more time_ I’ll share your baby dick pics on my Facebook where you _know_ I’m friends with media outlets. Now _let’s go_.”  
  
Somehow the woman who’s practically half of him has the power to move mountains, at least _this_ mountain. She’s dragging him by the arm like a petulant child huffing curses under her breath.  
  
“Ma I need to…”  
  
“You need to do _nothing,_ ” she hisses digging her nails deeper into his arm, “you’ll sit in on this meeting and take a scolding after we’re done. Not another word from you.”  
  
Mitaka is running ahead, probably into the meeting room, probably mortified by what he’d just witnessed.  
  
Ben gets one last look at Rey thinking 2 things: that this is him still doing penance for his past mistakes and that it’ll only be a few more hours until dinner.  
  
This is fine. _Everything_ is fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I picture this when he prods Hux's cheeks:
> 
> YW


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Hey Rose?” Rey started, her fingers twisting in front of her, “You and Armie are close with Ben, right?”_
> 
> _Rose nodded, looking up at her with a hopeful expression._
> 
> _Rey braced herself for what was next, “he has a mark, doesn’t he?”_
> 
> _Rose nodded again, eyes glittering in the moonlight. Lips pursed together like she was working overtime to hold something in._
> 
> _“You’ve seen it?”_
> 
> Rose nodded even more furiously, grinning from ear to ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that took longer than anticipated. I ended up losing my connection to the story, started writing another one to try my hand at something more E rated, then had to re-immerse myself. But … we’re done! Today I give you 3 chapters. 
> 
> Also, PSA - I'm absolute garbage at writing summaries.

“$100,000 monthly should be a good starting budget. We can review and adjust after 3 months on paid and 6 months on organic,” Leia says.  
  
They’d been going over the moving pieces for over an hour needlessly. The conversation is mostly Mitaka and Leia bantering back and forth about budget allocation. Dopheld insists on putting 100% into digital advertising, Leia insists a portion needs to go into organic growth. Ben tends to lean into Leia’s view, though advertising seems to provide the best ROI  _ and _ keeps his CMO happy.   
  
“Would any of it go towards events and sponsorships? I think it would look good if we sponsored more local recycling initiatives besides our own,” Hux chimes in.  
  
He can agree with that too. It’s a great idea. More local events and traditional advertising would prove fruitful in capturing the interest of less digitally savvy people, opening up a whole new market they haven’t yet tapped into.  
  
“We could even sponsor a couple of food shows nationally. ‘Brought to you by First Order’, has a nice ring, doesn’t it?” Dopheld grins brightly.  
  
Also not bad. Automatic association with food, indirectly planting the seed with consumers.   
  
“So, Ben? Would you be ok starting with $100,000?”  
  
He shrugs. Sure, fine. Whatever you want. They make 8 digits annually. What’s 100k a month? He knows he could give his mother $5 and she could turn it into $500 overnight. Besides, he doesn’t give a fuck about these numbers right now. That’s for Hux and Pryde to figure out. That’s what he  _ pays _ them to do. What he really wants to do is finish this meeting and find Rey already.  
  
But he doesn’t. Mitaka and Leia catch a second wind, start making lists of local and national events that would be great sponsorship candidates, lists for her team to research and contact for opportunities. Every new idea meets him with at least one pair of doe eyes he needs to placate with agreement or at least a ‘ _ maybe’,  _ an ‘ _ I’ll think about it’ _ .   
  
They do this until it’s time for dinner and theirs is catered in the meeting room. Some kind of pistachio crusted cod fillet with a citrus salsa on a bed of greens. It’s meh. Another night he would have probably loved it, but he was supposed to have this with  _ her _ . So he only picks at it sparingly while his stomach revulses. His mother doesn’t miss this and prods him to stop playing with his food. Some garbage she gives him everytime about children starving elsewhere in the world. He resigns to eating but doesn’t really register the flavour palette. His mother’s disappointed glances don’t help his appetite either.  
  
Hux seems to be on his side, occasionally slapping his hands together at opportune moments to cheerily say “right then, will that be all?”  
  
Usually that’s met with another barrage of ideas from his CMO and mother which practically resets the clock on the meeting. Ben would very much like to punch Hux for these attempts but the man is clearly in his corner. He appreciates the attempts even if they fail time and time again. Ben doesn’t miss the rueful looks Hux gives him, like he understands how much he needs to be somewhere else.  
  
Maybe he does. Maybe he could understand what it’s like to know your soulmate is right there. To have just discovered the best gift you could ever receive, only to be told you can’t open it  _ just yet _ . The torture of it is excruiciating yet beautiful.  
  
It really doesn’t help that he’s been smacked, prodded, and pinched more times in the last 24 hours than he has in over a decade by the overbearing, controlling woman he calls mother. He’ll need to talk to her in private about this. When he’d opened the door to reconciliation 4 years ago, he hadn’t planned to be teleported back into his adolescence and this is  _ exactly  _ what it’s starting to feel like. Sure he’d kept her in check by keeping their communications sparse, but being confined in close proximity for 72 hours has proven that she’s fallen right back into her old routines. The only thing that’s changed is that she hasn’t called him a disappointment …  _ yet _ .  
  
Mitaka and Leia make lists and banter happily about digital assets well after dessert has come and gone. Well after Ben is pretty much sleeping on the desk. They prattle about the merits of budgeting for Google ads, Facebook and Instagram advertising, traditional avenues like TV spots and flyers. They discuss alternate search engines like Yandex and Baidu for when they roll out globally. They discuss hiring freelance translators and testing a social media team of interns for the summer so they can tap into emerging platforms like TikTok. Leia suggests a few third party tracking tools for social listening and link-building. All suggestions to which Ben nods politely but disinterestedly.  
  
When it’s finally,  _ finally _ well past midnight and they get out, his mother proudly waves 6 (double sided, multi-column) pages worth of tightly scribbled lists and notes, telling him she’ll have Poe put together a formal budget proposal for Monday. He’d have it by noon that day to review and approve.  
  
Hux and Mitaka file out of the boardroom and Ben makes to follow when his mother places her hand gently on his forearm. Her eyes are soft yet stern, she’s sniffing for blood.  
  
“Want to tell me what the hell that was about at the pool?”  
  
He sighs pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off the incoming frustration, “no.”  
  
_ I’m a fucking adult Ma, and I’m figuring this one out myself _ .  
  
“Well I’ll have to talk to her. That bathing attire was … impolite.”  
  
If it was anyone else, he could agree with that, but she’s his soulmate so no, everything she does is utterly perfect. Besides, his dick didn’t agree with that statement at all. Sure it was a touch skimpy for a business retreat but who is he to pass judgement when her body was made to be worshiped? By him.  _ Literally _ .  
  
He sighs, “it’s not the bikini.”  
  
“I wouldn’t consider that a bikini,” she frowns at him clacking her nails on the desk, “well, what is it then?”  
  
“Then nothing Ma. I just …” he sighs thinking about what to say, how to phrase it delicately. How to throw her off his trail and get the space he needs. Except this trip has done nothing but awaken the controlling mother he ran from all those years ago. Off she goes.  
  
“You just nothing Benjamin. I’m tired of catching you eye humping that girl every spare glance. I’m about ready to send her home if you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”  
  
She must be  _ really _ mad because that … was not a Leia Organa-Solo sentence.   
  
“ _ What _ ? N-no … that won’t be necessary,”  _ because she’s my fucking soulmate Ma and if you send her home I’ll never forgive you.  
  
_ But he’s not ready to tell her that. Telling Leia would be inviting disaster. She’d probably squeal, scream for the kitchen to bake a wedding cake, ship a seamstress from the mainland and have him married in the next 24 hours then hang some kind of baby making charm over his bed. That just won’t do. Not when all he wants to do is get to know his soulmate better. Just  _ be with her _ .   
  
There’s so much more to her than just being his soulmate. She carries a loneliness in her he’d like to learn more about. Maybe they can compare notes because he carries one too. She’s guarded and he’d like to work through it with her, show her that it’s okay to trust him, that he’d never do anything to hurt her. It’s deeper than just the joining of their shared soul. He wants to explore everything with her, share everything with her, away from the infuriatingly nosy people in his life.  
  
“Good. Because I’d hate to have to fire her because of you,” she fixes him with a determined look.  
  
“What? Why the fuck?” hackles rising. This is  _ not _ how you treat my  _ soulmate _ !  
  
“ _ Language _ Ben,” she wags her finger at him in warning, “you’re more important to me than an employee. Kaydel is lucky she only got a talking to.”  
  
Well, that’s nice to hear but she’s  _ my soulmate _ so you’d be inadvertently hurting yourself. Because if it came between choosing you or her, I’ll choose  _ her _ every time. He’s walked away from family before, he has no qualms about doing it again.  
  
“Ma, you need to  **stop** . Seriously, it’s fine.”  
  
She sighs, “Okay Benny. Get to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
  
He takes this lull in her anger and his own as the perfect opportunity to leave, and so he does. Irritation simmering dangerously just beneath the surface. The situation turning infuriatingly frustrating. It turns out that telling his mother about having sniffed out his soulmate had become a thorn in his side. A constant hurdle getting in the way. He regrets telling her, truth be told.  
  
This should be a happy moment for him, it should be magical, ethereal. They write books on soulmates finding each other, there’s an entire channel dedicated to cheesy made-for-TV movies about them. At least he managed to ward off her curiosity, so that counts for something. Hopefully his angel will be sitting on the lookout deck reading, though it’s so late he doubts it. He’ll look for her nonetheless.  
  
Of course, turning in for the night couldn’t just be easy, not when your name is Ben Solo and the universe has a very big score to settle with you. Sitting outside on a bench is Hux, waiting. Waiting for him, presumably.   
  
Ben rolls his eyes out of instinct more than anything. The inconvenience of going from a conversation with his mother to one with Hux is … aggravating. Ben  _ tries _ to ignore him,  _ tries  _ to walk towards the huts nonchalantly but ultimately fails. His friend falls in step with him down the lighted path walking with his usual stick-up-the-ass gait.  
  
“Did you talk to her?”  
  
“No. I didn’t get a chance to. My mother…”  
  
“Did you at least … see?” Hux interrupts him like an impatient child.  
  
“See?”  
  
“You know…” Hux rolls his wrist rather than finishing his sentence.  
  
“Armitage, stop dawdling. You’re asking if I saw her mark?  _ Yes _ . I did,” his patience is dancing on a knife’s edge.  
  
“ _ Thank God _ ! I was beginning to think you two really  _ were _ idiots.”  
  
_ Nice. Thank you for the vote of confidence you prick.  
  
_ They walk in silence listening to their own footfalls and the chirping of crickets. Ben focuses on deep, controlled breathing to get his anger in check. Hux is  _ not _ the reason he’s angry right now. His mother, maybe, but this is ultimately all his very own fault. His fault for not seeking her out himself and trusting his mother’s intel blindly. His fault for not high tailing it after her on the train. His fault for getting those fucking tattoos. He groans, his form slumping under the weight of his disappointment.  
  
“Hey, Hux? When did you figure it out?”  
  
They walk quietly for a while longer before Hux answers, “With certainty? Last Wednesday. But I got a hunch 2 months ago when we went to that nightclub, I saw hers when she was with Rose. It just didn’t click right then. Not until I saw your forearm again up close.”  
  
Ben sighs and nods. They’re coming up on their huts and he chances a glance at Rey’s where the lights are off. Craning his neck over to the lookout deck he notices it too stands empty. Not that it’s much of a surprise but he’d held out hope.  
  
He relents, might as well come clean himself.  
  
“I knew 2 months ago,” he starts, “just had this … feeling. Asked my mother how old she was, when her birthday was ... everything checked out. Except, when she checked Rey’s forearms and neck there was nothing.”  
  
“Well the placement is odd, but … wait is that why you spiraled down the rabbit hole?”  
  
Ben rolls his eyes again. The turmoil he’d felt the last 2 months had been completely wiped away, tabula rasa, the minute he saw that mark. Every challenge he’d faced, every pain, every outburst of anger, every  _ emotion _ had led him to her and that made every single one worth it. He couldn’t even remember what it felt like, that hopelessness. Not now, not the way he  _ knows _ .  
  
“I took my mother’s words at face value, but my heart wouldn’t let her go,” he nods in confirmation, pushing his hands into his pockets, “now I know my heart was right. I also know it was in poor form to trust my mother so blindly. She still thinks Rey’s unmarked.”  
  
“Aah, so that's why she keeps smacking you.”  
  
_ God is it that obvious _ ? She’s making him look like a child in front of his employees. This is not going to look good come Monday morning.  
  
“Yeah. She thinks I’m just looking to score.”  
  
“You gotta tell her, Ben.”  
  
He scoffs, “and have her start planning the wedding before I even get to talk to Rey? Fat chance. Hux,  _ promise _ me you won’t tell my mother?”  
  
“You know it’ll only get worse if you don’t…”  
  
“And if you do? She’ll interfere and where will that leave me?  _ Us _ ?” he pauses considering how bad his mother’s meddling can be. How her need to control the situation will no doubt come between them. “You know my mother. You know what it was like with Rose. Imagine you had someone wedge themselves between you two the moment you discovered.”  
  
Hux nods in understanding but looks pained, “that already looks to be the case.”  
  
“I’ll deal with it. Just … promise me?”  
  
They’re standing in front of their huts now. It’s quiet, the soft sounds of ocean waves rolling and wind rustling through the pines fill the air. Hux looks uncomfortable, he’s squirming like he’s just been asked to lay in a snake pit. But he gives Ben a curt nod anyway, straightening his spine as if saluting a general.  
  
“Thank you,” Ben exhales looking at the ground, heat creeping up his neck ever so slightly, “I really want Rey to myself first.”  
  
He feels a punch that holds no malice against his bicep, “you sly dog.”  
  
Oh for fucks sake.  
  
“Good night Armitage!”

  
  


—————————————————-

  
  


Rose and Rey had dinner with Pryde and his wife, Jessika, Poe and Finn. Ben was nowhere to be found. Neither was Mitaka, Hux and Leia. Rey could only presume they were cooped up in one of the meeting rooms. She sighed looking towards the doors of the dining hall.  
  
Her heart felt heavy. She’d been looking forward to talking to him. If not about the bigger question at least about little things. She  _ likes _ hearing his perspective. It makes her feel validated, because ten times out of ten, he thinks exactly the way she does. Maybe it’s irrational but finding confirmation in another person is satisfying on a primal level. He makes her feel less alone.  _ His _ confirmation makes her feel whole.  
  
Rose leaned into the space between them to whisper, “did you talk to Ben? Before dinner?”  
  
“What? No.”  
  
“ _ God dammit, _ ” Rose blurted out a little too loudly, drawing eyes from everyone at the table.  
  
“Uh, sorry my … I uh, stubbed my toe.”  
  
Rey looked down at their feet beneath the table, brows furrowed with worry.  
  
“You alright Rose?”  
  
Rose leaned back in again, back to their private whispers, “Peachy ... so you didn’t see him at the pool?”  
  
What was this woman talking about? She was blessedly alone out there. Would she admit to Rose her intuition? No. Would she tell Rose about wanting to show him her mark? No. This was the same woman who gave her two scraps of nylon and called it a bathing suit, the same one who thought getting it in with  _ Snap _ was a great idea. She’d like to test this Ben thing on her own, away from the nosey people in her life.  
  
“No,” she tested the answer as it slipped from her lips, eyeing Rose suspiciously.  
  
“Rey, he … Hux sent … I heard him say he was going to the pool. That’s all. I thought you would have run into him there.”  
  
Well that would have been embarrassing, what with being dressed like an exotic dancer and all. Then again, her mark did burn briefly when she was on the deck, maybe, if he was there, the ridiculous getup made him run the other way. Maybe he saw her mark and it didn’t match his so he left. That one stung a little and she flinched outwardly. But, why was Rose stumbling over her words?  _ What did she know _ ? Maybe Ben was right, these two  _ do _ meddle.  
  
“No, no one was there.”  
  
Rose just nodded absently, her face screwed into an odd mix of crestfallen and annoyed. They didn’t broach the subject again for the entirety of dinner, falling back into conversation. Poe made a series of dad jokes which Pryde and his wife laughed at until they’d sprung tears. Finn and Rose simply chuckled at the cliche punch lines. Rey pushed her fish around the plate, appetite practically null and void.  
  
She wished Ben was there. The more she thought about him, the more she replayed their conversations, the more she needed to be around him. He was the anchor she didn’t know she’d needed.   
  
Before meeting him she was content just existing, perfectly happy living the comfortable life she’d managed to carve out for herself. Rebuilding herself, wiping out her old life before one day taking up arms to try and find her soulmate or he found her.   
  
Except, somehow, meeting  _ him _ had made her realize she’d been floating all along. She’d been missing something,  _ someone.  _ Utterly oblivious to just how much that  _ someone _ completed her until they weren’t there. Because now that  _ someone’s _ not there, now that she can’t see this  _ someone _ , she feels a great chasm opening in her gut, dark and void. There’s an overbearing need to be near him. Like he’s her center of gravity and out of his orbit she’s lost in endless space.  
  
When the hell did all of this happen? How can a single person cause such a visceral and emotional reaction? There’s really only one answer, one that made her smile staring blankly across the dining hall, towards the doors she hoped would carry him through any minute now. One that filled her chest with warmth.  _ It’s him _ , her heart whispered.  
  
_ It’s him _ . She assured herself mentally.  
  
He didn’t appear during dinner, or after. She and Rose walked back to their huts in silence. The questions they no doubt wanted to ask each other hung heavily in the air.  
  
“Hey Rose?” Rey started, her fingers twisting in front of her, “You and Armie are close with Ben, right?”  
  
Rose nodded, looking up at her with a hopeful expression.  
  
Rey braced herself for what was next, “he has a mark, doesn’t he?”  
  
Rose nodded again, eyes glittering in the moonlight. Lips pursed together like she was working overtime to hold something in.  
  
“You’ve seen it?”  
  
Rose nodded even more furiously, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
Rey bobbed her head humming contentment, “it’s on his arm isn’t it, the one with all the tattoos…”  
  
Rose grabbed her forearm and nodded again, lips pressed together in a tight line, a soft sob escaping her throat.  
  
“I also assume,” she smiled at Rose, “you’ve seen it before. On … someone else.”  _ On me _ .  
  
Rose wrapped her in a hug and whispered “yes”.  
  
_ It was confirmation. It’s him _ .   
  
Rey decided to wait up late reading on the deck, stealing glances towards his hut and the walkway at (frequent) intervals. When he didn’t show, when she’d started to nod off, she trudged back to her hut with tendrils of loneliness wrapping around her. She pried the book open at random, making sure to avoid her bookmark, looking for validation.  
  
_ ‘The simple things are also the most extraordinary things, and only the wise can see them.’  
  
_ _ It is extraordinary, isn’t it? _ She thinks now, snuggling under the soft duvet. She came here thinking she’d love seeing the ocean. As she falls asleep, she realizes she loved seeing Ben more.

  
  


[x]

  
  


It’s 6:00 AM on Sunday and there’s a loud, insistent banging on her door. Rey jolts up startled, rubbing her bleary eyes and squinting at the alarm clock. Who the hell…  
  
More banging.  
  
“Just a minute,” she croaks towards the door. Pulling the duvet over her shoulders, she pads to the front door barefoot. Her tank top is on askew and her hair is sticking up at questionable angles.   
  
Finn and Poe are standing there, dressed in their athletic best. Finn is running tight circles on the walkway, Poe’s fist is raised mid air, ready to unleash another series of raps on her door.  
  
“What the hell are you doing?”  
  
“We’re going for a run,” he beams that cocky shit-eating grin at her, “care to join us?”  
  
_ No. I want to sleep you obnoxious fucking morning lover _ .  
  
But then, a run would do her good, wouldn’t it? She’d been taking it easy as per doctor’s orders. Her headache is starting to subside, last night she was even able to  _ kind of _ smell dinner. Yeah, you know what? A run isn’t a bad idea. She’ll find Ben after, when the run’s woken her up properly. It’ll only be a little while until she has the rest of her life with him, because she’s all but sure it  _ is _ him.  
  
“You know what? Yeah, I’d like that. Give me 5 minutes?”  
  
Poe nods. Finn groans in frustration and stops running, plopping himself down on a patch of soft grass.  
  
Rey rummages through her things for her leggings, running shoes, a sports bra and a tank top. She loops her cardigan around her waist in case they don’t have time to come back for a shower. Brushing her teeth quickly, running her fingers through the knots in her hair and splashing her face with cold water she jumps out her front door and down the trail with Poe and Finn.  
  
One day soon, she’ll do this with Ben.

  
  


—————————————————-

  
  


Ben’s eyes shoot open and trail towards the alarm clock on the nightstand. It’s 8:30 AM. He’s slept in.  _ Fuck _ .  
  
Ben props himself up against the headboard stretching his neck, his eyes automatically reaching out to sea. It looks different now, knowing his soulmate. It doesn’t look vast and empty anymore. It looks full of life, brimming with promises of consummate love and adventure. It reminds him of her now.   
  
He presses his palms into his eye sockets to rub the sleep out and checks the alarm clock again, hoping that maybe it’s wrong, maybe it’s 5:30 instead. No dice.  
  
Now he needs to choose between going to talk to Rey or going for a run. Not that it’s a choice really, his mind has only one mission and running is  _ not _ it. He steels his resolve and hops into the shower, rinsing off quickly, with purpose, brushing his teeth in tandem to save time. Grabbing a pair of jeans and a sweater, he dresses in record time and is out of his front door in 10 minutes. Because he needs to be. Because this can’t wait any longer.  
  
His steps are sure, steadfast. He’s excited, heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears. Standing in front of her door he feels a flutter in his chest. This is it, his life starts now.  
  
He knocks softly. No answer.  
  
He knocks a little harder. No answer.  
  
“Rey?” still no answer.  
  
Ben leans his ear against the door, listening for any sounds that would tell him she’s in there but the hut is silent. Dammit he shouldn’t have wasted time showering, he should have ran out as soon as he’d woken up, though he doesn’t know how she would have responded to only boxer-briefs. Then again, she’d have to get used to that part of him soon enough.  
  
Rose walks out of the front door of their hut only to roll her eyes at him and groan theatrically.  
  
“You  _ still _ haven’t talked to her, have you?”  
  
Hux appears behind her laughing and shaking his head. Like they’re his parents watching him do some silly childish thing. Yup, he’s  _ definitely _ going to deck these two in the very near future.  
  
“I…”  
  
“She went for a run with Poe and Finn,” Hux offers with mirth, like he can’t help but find joy in his absolutely terrible timing.  
  
_ Oh _ . He deflates. Maybe he should have gone for that run then, maybe he’d have met her on the trail.  
  
“Probably won’t be back. You’ll see her at breakfast. Come on let’s get you there.”

  
  


[x]

  
  


Sure enough, when he walks into the dining hall his eye immediately falls on  _ his _ angel. She’s sitting at a table by the windows chatting away with that developer, Finn. The conversation seems to stop the minute their eyes meet and he gets a fleeting glimpse of a very confused Finn darting his eyes between them.  
  
Except he doesn’t notice that for long because there goes his vision again, he’s tunnelling into her, a feeling he’s starting to very much enjoy. The world melts away and is replaced by the warmth of her presence. She shoots him the sweetest and all he can do is grin back sheepishly. To anyone on the outside, they must look absolutely ridiculous, but that’s secondary because all that matters right now is  _ them _ .   
  
He sees her hand gently pat the seat beside her, blinking at him slowly. His thumb rises to point at his chest and he mouths ‘ _ for me? _ ’. She nods and nibbles her lower lip so sweetly he might melt into a puddle on the spot. He must be grinning like a complete fool now but he doesn’t have a single fuck to give because it’s her and _ she knows it _ .  
  
That’s all the invitation he needs. He points at the breakfast buffet and she laughs quietly, nodding in confirmation. ‘ _ Yes go get some food, _ ’ she’s saying, her lips moving to form the inaudible words. And he does, like a man on a mission. He grabs a plate and makes his rounds, all the while stealing glances at her angelic face, watching her expectant eyes count the seconds until he got there.   
  
Ben starts heaping slices of quiche, bacon, some zucchini bread and fruits onto his plate. He’d also like to grab a waffle for them to share, so he stands in line at the waffle station behind Poe. If he’s lucky, the guy won’t turn around and make conversation. But of course, the universe isn’t done reprimanding him for his life choices.  
  
“Ben, what’ll it be for you? Pancakes or waffles?”  
  
“Waffle,” he answers looking over his shoulder to take another steadying glance at Rey who’s now talking to Jessika.  
  
“Nice. How’s your nose? Better?” Is this man  _ trying _ to annoy him?  
  
“Fine,” he offers curtly, hopefully he’ll get the message. Ben doesn’t have time for this. Just get your shit Poe and fuck off. I’ve got a soulmate to get to.  
  
“Do you … have you had apple pie here?” Poe furrows his brows looking at him.  
  
_ What?  
  
_ “What?”  
  
“I’ve been smelling apple pie since we got here except I can never find it.”  
  
“Uh…”  
  
“You don’t smell it?”  
  
Ben gives an experimental sniff to the air. Still blocked but it’s getting better. He’s getting hints of waffle, the mouthwatering smell of bacon and a hint of cinnamon buns he’s 100% certain is coming from the other end of the room. But of all the things he  _ can  _ pick up, apple pie is definitely not one of them. Apples aren’t even in season yet and his uncle’s resort sources sustainably, so he shakes his head at Poe, hoping that’ll be the end of his line of questioning.  
  
Poe’s nose lifts to the air, “it’s so potent. Apple pie and … honeysuckle?”  
  
_ Oh no _ . Ben knows what this is.  
  
Poe’s nose is turned up like a dog that’s caught the scent of prey. He keeps sniffing the air until his eyes hone in on the fruit station where Zorii is picking through slices of grapefruit and watermelon. The empty plate Poe was cradling for his pancake or waffle gets pushed into Ben’s chest, all but forgotten. He steps slowly towards the fruit station, eyes trained on the woman in front of it. She looks up only to freeze upon meeting Poe’s eyes. Both of their nostrils flare in recognition and the room seems to crackle with static electricity.  
  
They both breathe deeply, chests rising and falling. Zorii grips her sweater sleeve with shaky fingers to pull it up, exposing a rounded fleur-de-lys on her forearm. Poe is … well he’s fucking crying? There’s a tear rolling down his cheek as he continues his slow drift towards Zorii. His hand reaching up to touch the back of his neck. Zorii’s marked arm comes to rest on Poe’s chest, eyes still locked in awe. They smile lazily at each other.  
  
“Hi,” she says.  
  
“Hi,” he returns.  
  
Shit this is too intimate to be done out in the open like this. Can’t these two go somewhere more private? The sensible part of Ben’s brain wants to interject, tell them to take it somewhere they could be alone. Shit even Hux and Rose, though they knew and made googly eyes at each other, had waited until they got back to his place, or hers. Ben can’t remember how the story went, he’d been too pissed to pay attention. The bringing together of soulmate marks is akin to an orgasm, at least that’s what the books say, an innately private act and should be treated as such. Except these two seem to have no qualms in treating the entire dining hall to the act.  
  
As uncomfortable as it is to see, Ben also wants that, he wants that with his own soulmate so bad. He  _ should _ turn away, if they won’t give themselves privacy the least he can do is give them the courtesy of not looking. But watching a pair of soulmates come together for the first time is beautifully hypnotic. Especially in light of his being right there. It’s like watching his future unfold and he can’t help but stare entranced.  
  
He sees Zorii’s arm snake up Poe’s chest. They’re still smiling at each other, like they have a secret that’s only their own. Like they’re giving each other strength. Her arm slinks around Poe’s neck and there’s a moment where the static in the room feels almost palpable. It’s the moment her forearm locks around Poe’s neck. The moment their eyes close and their foreheads press together, their bodies shudder because it’s done. He sees their chests heaving, long heavy breaths released. Like relief is seeping out of them now that they’ve found each other. They remain like that, completely engrossed in one another, the world having melted away leaving just them.  
  
“Sir?”  
  
The waffle chef is blinking at him with a wide smile. Ben is pulled out of the bubble he’d witnessed dazed. Waffle, he was getting a waffle.  
  
“Uh, waffle please,” Ben responds dumbly. Eyes darting back to Poe and Zorii.  
  
The chef deposits a freshly pressed waffle on his plate waving his arm towards the topping station. Ben drizzles some maple syrup and raspberries on it, then adds a dollop of whipped cream for good measure. It’s  _ their _ waffle and he would bet his right arm she likes raspberries and whipped cream.  
  
When he turns around ready to find Rey, she’s gone.  
  
Fucking waffles.

  
  



	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There, a huge black hoodie lies bunched up with her chunky sweaters, not hers. Ben’s._
> 
> _She paws at it bringing it to her nose to take a deep inhale. That’s the stuff. The source of the scent. It’s him, it’s him. For two whole months she’d deluded herself that it had been nothing but good cologne. That her mind was playing tricks on her. All the while he’d been under her nose the whole time._
> 
> _It’s confirmation that everything she’d felt, everything she’d fought a losing battle with on that retreat, all of her intuitions (and that damn book’s) were right. Ben is her soulmate. Rey hugs the sweater into her chest, clutching it tightly. It’s a soothing vestige of him. It whispers promises of happiness, of a future, stretching out endlessly while visions flood her mind._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the second of 3 chapters today.

The pressure in her sinuses had receded and her sense of smell was coming back ever so slowly. She could tell by how the scent of breakfast foods flooded her when she, Finn, and Poe entered the dining hall. How her food had more flavour now that her sense of smell was returning. She could tell by how she subtly picked up notes of cocoa, tobacco leaf and ginger. A scent that immediately made her eyes snap to the door when it hit her nose, and sure enough, he’s there.   
  
Finn’s saying one thing or another, she can’t be sure anymore because their conversation vaporizes into thin air as she tunnels into  _ him _ . The world goes fuzzy around the edges and she doesn’t register the weight of the cutlery in her hand anymore, or the rasp of the table cloth against her forearms. Her lower back is on fire and her heart stutters in her chest when their eyes meet. A smile blooms across her face. She can’t help it, really. He’d found her. Or she’d found him? They’d found  _ each other _ . What matters now is that today is the first day of the rest of her life.  
  
Rey fights the brain fuzzies tooth and nail, willing her hand to move. She pats the table setting beside her, and doesn’t he do the sweetest thing? He shyly points at himself and mouths ‘ _ for me _ ?’ to which she nods. He really has no idea how affecting he can be. She must be blushing every shade of red under his gaze.  
  
His toothy grin grows wider, he points at the buffet, asking permission for sustenance and she nods again. That grin liquefying her insides into a puddle. She can wait until he has some breakfast, judging by the size of him he needs the calories. They have the rest of their lives together, after all.  
  
She watches him heap piles of food on his plate. It’s both worrying and charming that he can eat like a horse. Then again, he’s about the size of one. Rey wonders what kind of order she’d need to place at Yavin to feed them both. She’ll definitely need to order 3 portions of Shanghai noodles. Maybe a side of Bok Choy. He must also like hot and sour soup so definitely 2 orders of that, and a double order of spring rolls.  
  
“Rey?” Jessika breaks her daydream of delicious Chinese food with Ben.  
  
“Hey Jess,” she greets back dreamily, eyes never leaving Ben’s form. Ben, who’s hovering over the fruit station picking through slices of watermelon. Where he finds the space on his place she can’t fathom.  
  
“Are you … ready?”  
  
“Hmm?” Rey fights to peel her eyes away from him, to look at Jess who’s looking at her with a worried expression on her face.  
  
“Our Content Scheduling meeting. It’s … now,” Jess tells her tapping her smartwatch with her index finger. She looks about ready to burst into tears, the poor thing.  
  
_ Bloody hell. Can’t this fucking wait?  
  
_ “Poe’s not done eating,” she rebuts petulantly, dragging her eyes back Ben’s deliciously broad back.  
  
“Poe is … he’s tied up right now. Let’s go, I’ve got a lot of things to organize.” Her eyes trail back to Jess who still looks on the verge of tears. Her eyes pleading Rey to follow.  
  
Rey turns back to Ben wistfully, who’s now in line at the waffle station. That makes her smile. The man needs two plates of food, bless him. He seems to be watching Poe having a very odd moment with Zorii. They’re staring at each other open mouthed. Like they’re planning on re-enacting  _ the _ Dirty Dancing scene, it’s a little intimate to be honest but she doesn’t dwell on that because her eyes snap back on her soulmate, watching his adam’s apple bob on a swallow, thinking about how much she’d like to trace that … with her tongue.  
  
"Rey? Let’s go!” Jess taps her shoulder, “if we don’t do this we’ll be behind and the General will get involved.”  
  
_ That  _ snaps her out of her reverie. Leia. The General. Mad. Not good. Go meet.  
  
“How … how long?”  
  
“It’s only half an hour Rey, you’ll be back in no-time to make googly eyes with whoever you want.” Jess is all but whining now.   
  
_ Is she that obvious?  
  
_ There’s added pressure. Not going to the meeting or being late wouldn’t just be disobeying a direct order from the General. It would be insulting and disobeying an order from Ben’s  _ mother _ . Holy shit her soulmate’s mother. That puts the fear of God in her and she jolts to her feet to follow Jess out. She hears Jess exhale in relief, sees her shoulders drop an inch. She takes one last steadying glance at Ben before walking out of the dining hall.  
  
_ It’ll only be half an hour _ , she tells herself.

  
  


[x]

  
  


Rey is standing in front of Ben’s hut, banging on the door for the 5th time, anxiety coursing through her veins.  
  
Her meeting hadn’t been half an hour. It ended up being an hour and a half. The General showed up with Kaydel before their original half hour was up, waving these tightly scribbled notes at them which they set upon to organize. There was a lot more content than her and Jess had originally discussed. Probably something that happened when Leia was no doubt cooped up with her soulmate well into the night yesterday.   
  
Leia had given her stern glances throughout that made her feel a little bit like she might shit herself. They were warnings, like a lion protecting her cub. Then again, her cub is her soulmate and a grown man.   
  
She’d wondered if he’d told his mother? No that was silly, they still had to confirm with one another, it would be impossible he’d told her. That had put all the more pressure on Rey to act completely normal. So she’d smile, offer enthusiastic input, scribbled in her notepad furiously to appease Leia. Like she’s not on the verge of tipping into a new life, like she’s not on the cusp of having her soul bonded.  
  
When they finally, _finally_ finished, when Jessika had left and Rey has folded the notes neatly into their folio, she got up to find Ben only to be halted by the General.  
  
“Rey, a moment please?”  
  
Oh no.   
  
“Y-yes, Leia?”  
  
“You were aware this was a business retreat, right?” her eyes roamed her cardigan, leggings and running shoes liberally. It was raking in the worst way, disapproving. Disappointment.  
  
“Uh, yes … I-I’m sorry I’d just gone for a run and it was late…”  
  
“Next time, please pack more appropriate attire,” she pursed her lips and gave her that dismissive nod, “for the _entirety_ of the retreat.”  
  
 _Fuck_ not good. She’d packed well enough, had kept her attire business casual. With the exception of running shoes on the hike, Rose’s bikini and this morning, she’d been perfectly fine.  
  
 _Oh God, did she see that bikini?_ She’s going to _kill_ Rose.  
  
“I understand,” she stuttered, “and I’ll do better.”  
  
Leia only nodded again, shooing her off with a flick of her wrist.  
  
She would have liked to analyze that series of events a little more, exactly why Leia had so much … fire … in her eyes. But she needed to find Ben, so she ran into the dining hall only to find he wasn’t there. In fact, there’d barely been anyone there at all. Just Pryde and his wife making their way out.  
  
“Join us won’t you, Rey?” Estella asked her, “we’re just heading back to our hut to pack.”  
  
And that was a second diversion she needed none of. Ben was here and she needed to find him in the worst way. But how could anyone say no to those pleading eyes and that sweet motherly smile? How could anyone deny a guest when you’d just been scolded for being unprofessional by your boss? Her senses were heightened, the need to perform notched up there with her need to find Ben. Surely she has more time...  
  
“Uh, sure?”  
  
She walked casually with the older couple, noting the scents that were flooding back in. The sharpness of the pine, the rich soil, the saltiness in the air. It had been like scenting Ben had awakened her senses, her nose was on the hunt for _him_. The walkways they strolled on wound towards a different set of huts. The _wrong_ huts. Not _their_ huts.  
  
“Rey, I just wanted to thank you,” Estella started after some silent walking, “the piece you wrote on Enric was magnificent.”  
  
She felt genuinely flattered by the compliment, “thank you Mrs. Pryde, I appreciate your kind words.”  
  
“Enric here is a bit of an accounting type so most people just see a stuffy suit,” she’d swatted her husband’s chest playfully at that, “but you saw through that. You saw him for who he really is and showed the world. I can’t thank you enough. I shared the piece with all our friends and family. They all loved it!”  
  
Mrs. Pryde’s eyes were positively gleaming. Damn, she’d had no idea her words could be so affecting. In reality, Rey had just been doing her job, Mr. Pryde was a nice enough man. It was as standard an article as any - chat, grab the key points, and wrestle them into a readable format. Rey had never considered that an article she’d written could be as affecting as the books she so fondly read.  
  
The remainder of their walk Estella gushed about soulmated life. How fruitful it was, how satisfying. She told Rey about their 3 adult children, how one is in medical school and the others pursuing the arts. She asked about her own mark and Rey, for the first time in her life, admitted to having one openly, freely. There wasn’t a split second of doubt, no twinge of fear that she’d be mocked. Instead, Rey just patted her lower back smiling languidly.  
  
“My word that’s unique,” Estella exclaimed.  
  
“Do you … have you found your soulmate?” Enric asked a little cautiously.  
  
“I think so, we haven’t joined yet.”  
  
“How?” his eyes grew wide. As though it was a personal insult to know your soulmate but not have joined. As if he was completely oblivious that the universe clearly has some form of vendetta against her, a score it’s trying to settle for her old life.  
  
“I only figured it out quite recently,” she conceded.  
  
“Well, darling, you shouldn’t wait any longer,” Estella jumped in.  
  
 _I know_. She thought to herself. I’m trying _not_ to but the universe seems to be conspiring against us.  
  
When the couple finally retreated into their hut with many thanks, she’d burst into a full sprint back to her batch, Ben’s batch, _their_ batch of huts. Her feet carried her around the winding paths until she saw their clearing. She didn’t go into her hut, no. Instead, she marched straight up to Ben’s door, all insecurities flung aside and pounded on the door with conviction. _This is it_.   
  
She knocked on the door once, twice, three times but there was no answer.   
  
That’s how she finds herself ruminating on how she got here, standing in front of a door with no Ben in sight. _Where is he?  
  
_ She presses her ear against the door only to be met by utter silence. He’s not there.  
  
Loneliness and rejection are clawing at her chest, threatening to swallow her except … those irrational fears she’d learned to live with all those years don’t sting anymore. They’re there, attempting to stick to her but instead just roll off. Like water being repelled by oil. Because she _just knows_ it’s him. Soulmates don’t reject each other. They might miss each other, which seems to be their case, but reject? Impossible. They were literally _made_ for one another. She’s not alone anymore, and neither is he.  
  
Rey is deep in concentration, as if she could will Ben to materialize if she thinks of him hard enough when Finn comes jogging around the corner.  
  
“That’s the wrong door, Rey. Yours is the next one. What did the General do to you in that meeting? Scramble your brain?”  
  
Of course she knows that’s not her door. She’s not _looking_ to be in her own hut.  
  
“What do you want Finn?” she bites, irritation building at how ridiculous this whole situation is turning out to be. She just needs Ben, not these … distractions. She should have stayed up late, sat in front of his hut. She shouldn’t have gone for that run. Should have gone to him at the buffet, pretended she was going to get some fruits or something. _Fuck_ Rey you’re an _idiot_!  
  
“The bus is here, it’s noon. We gotta go.”  
  
 _No. No no no no no. This isn’t happening.  
  
_ “I’m here to help you with your bag.”  
  
“It’s a bloody _gym_ bag Finn, I can manage!”  
  
He lifts up his hands in surrender, “sorry jeez. I was just told to come grab you.”  
  
This can’t be happening. Not now.   
  
“Not now Finn. I have to talk to Ben.”  
  
“You can talk to him back home or email him whatever question you have. But if we don’t go in the next,” he checks his phone, “15 minutes we’ll be in a load of shit with no way off the island.”  
  
She heaves a sigh. He’s right. She can seek him out back in Coruscant. Now that she knows who he is, where he works, it won’t even be hard. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be here. Maybe this place was just meant to bring them together but their actual _coming together_ would be elsewhere. Well, obviously, because Finn looks absolutely wracked with worry and she can’t think of a way out of this.  
  
“Fine,” she concedes, plodding to her own hut to throw her things in her bag. She doesn’t realize she’s packed Ben’s sweater. Doesn’t realize she’s left the door to her hut open. Barely registers getting on the bus while her eyes scan every corner of the resort for _him_.   
  
Settling into her seat she swallows back a stinging set of tears that’s threatening to spill. It’s not that she’ll never see him again. They’re soulmates and based on his behaviour this morning, he knows it as much as she does. They’ll find each other. Probably later on tonight, worst case tomorrow. It’s just the intense emotional weight of knowing your future is right there, just on the horizon, _just_ out of reach and you can’t have it yet. It’s like being gifted what you know is the best present, the _one_ thing you’ve been dying to get your hands on, only to be told you can’t open it just yet.  
  
Rey grabs her phone to text Rose. She knows it won’t send until they’re back on civilized land with amenities like _cellular reception_. She knows Rose won’t see it until she makes it there herself later, but she needs to do this. It’s a little sliver of comfort she can control, carve out to calm her nerves at the growing chasm between her and the other half of her soul.  
  
REY: _Rose, please please give Ben my number when you get this?  
  
_ She leans her head against the window, a lone tear escaping to roll down her cheek. She already misses Ben. It’s silly, stupid really. She’ll see him soon. But her heart clenches at the distance and her traitorous tear ducts do its dirty work.  
  
As the bus pulls onto the ferry she thinks two things: the universe clearly has a score to settle with her for her questionable past, and she could have stayed back and asked Ben to drive her. _Fuck_.

  
  


—————————————————-

  
  


Whoever stole his soulmate away from him better pray for a quick and clean death because he’s on the brink of waging a galactic fucking war.  
  
Poe is making googly eyes with Zorii in the corner and Finn is nowhere to be found. Neither is his mother, not that he’d ask her anyway. Rose and Hux might know where his soulmate’s gone. So he sits with them and picks at the traitorous breakfast that he’s suddenly found himself in no mood for.  
  
“Do you guys know where Rey went?” he asks disheartened while his fork breaks up a slice of quiche. He knows he’s about to get an earful, and quite frankly, he deserves it.  
  
“You guys seriously  _ still _ haven’t talked?” Rose barks at him. It’s loud. It draws attention.  
  
He sighs, maybe Rose is right. Maybe he  _ is _ an idiot. The plate of food in front of him being the number one culprit for the missed opportunity. That and the stupid fucking waffle that sits there with the heated whipped cream pooling into its divets, bathing it in a milky film. He should have waited, should have gone to her first. Stupid quiche. Stupid waffle.  
  
“Aww don’t worry Ben,” Hux slaps down the itinerary sheet on the table, “says here she’s in with Jessika and Poe for a half hour. She’ll be right out.”  
  
Well Poe’s with Zorii so … Jessika. He’s going to  _ murder _ that woman.  
  
Okay, we’ve got half an hour. This is fine, everything is fine.  
  
But he doesn’t. Have half an hour, that is, because his lawyers whisk him and Hux away to deal with the buyout email. They’ve received confirmation their process server has made contact and delivered the package so the email is more of a formality on their behalf. They’d like to go over it again, for God knows what reason because they’d already combed through it so much it’s practically bald.   
  
He relents. She’ll be out in only half an hour. He’ll figure out a way to extricate himself and find her. By 10:40 AM his mother walks into their meeting and under her scrupulous questioning and prodding, the entire thing doesn’t let up until 1:30 in the afternoon. How he managed to listen to the same sentence repackaged into different syntax over and over for 4 hours, he doesn’t know. He’s only glad he’s finally out.   
  
That’s it, the last meeting. No more work related bullshit until Monday, though he’ll need to have a talk with his staff. The amount of time he’s wasted this retreat answering things they should already be taking care of is unnerving. Now, though, now it’s time for him to grab the reins to his future.  
  
He’s going to go talk to Rey unimpeded, maybe they won’t join yet, not here. When he does he’d like to be able to dedicate a few days to her and her alone. But at least he’ll be with her and they’ll just  _ know _ . He’ll offer to drive her home. Maybe he’ll even let her drive. She seems enamoured with his car and he’d do anything so see her smile. The basic mechanics were there so she should be fine with a quick crash course around the cabin. Plus the staff was kind enough to give him a full charge so they wouldn’t need to pitstop at a charging station, not that he wouldn’t mind the extra half hour at one of the superchargers with her.  
  
The door to her hut is wide open and he can’t help but smirk to himself at the blatant invitation. His heart thumps loudly in his ears and a warmth blooms in his chest. This is it. He walks up carefully, footsteps loud because he doesn’t want to spook her the way he had that first night. Except, instead of finding Rey, he finds a caretaker changing the bedsheets.   
  
“Where’s Rey?” he asks with incredulity, like the cleaning staff would know. Like if he stares at the woman hard enough she’ll morph into Rey. Like the woman is personally responsible for Rey not being here.  
  
“Sir? The occupant has left with the rest of the party on the bus.”  
  
Are you  _ fucking kidding me _ ? He really wants to smash his breakfast plate from earlier. If nothing else, skipping breakfast would have at least given him a chance to offer her that ride back. That would have bought them 4 hours blessedly alone. How the  _ fuck _ did this spiral out of control so quickly? What deity did he insult? How much more penance must he do?   
  
There’s a whiff of something nudging his olfactory, cinnamon buns. His nose is all but back to normal now so he lifts his head, nostrils flaring and follows it to the bathroom where a discarded towel hangs lackadaisical on a rack. Like the creep he is, he leans in to take a long, deep sniff. Yup, cinnamon buns. Any shred of doubt that would have lingered in his system flies out the window with that scent. He needs to get to Rey.  _ Now _ .  
  
Ben grabs the towel. It smells like her and it’ll be his source of comfort until he finds her back home in Coruscant. Holding it close, he marches back to his own hut dejected, pushing his clothing and toiletries into his bag with more force than necessary. He’s  _ livid _ that he’s wasted time in useless meetings. Meetings where he’s been asked for input on things he  _ pays other people _ to worry about. When he makes his way back to the main building, towel slung over his shoulder, he sees some of his staff waiting for their transport with Leia. Small talk abound.   
  
Ben knows she’ll chastise him if he leaves before the guests, so he’ll have to wait until the last of them leave to placate his mother. If he doesn’t, he risks her sniffing out his motives and start questioning him, something he can’t allow. Not right now. Not anymore.  
  
Instead of partaking in more vanilla jokes and pats on the back, Ben decides to check his emails and get ahead of Monday, get ahead of his responsibilities and carve himself a decent chunk of time to devote to Rey as soon as he gets back. Because that’s what’s going to happen. As soon as he gets back, maybe not tonight if it’s too late but  _ definitely _ tomorrow, he’s going to spend at least a week doting on her. Driving her to work, picking her up, spending every spare moment he has just  _ being _ with her.  
  
He plods into the library and sets up at a desk, plugging in his laptop and using a spare ethernet cable to connect to the building’s LAN. When he flips it open and navigates to his email client, at the very top of his inbox, sits an email from his VC.   
  
**Subject: This won’t look good  
  
** His blood runs cold.

  
  


—————————————————-

  
  


Rey doesn’t get home until 6:00 PM. Once they’d gotten to the office Zari insisted they drop off their notes and talk about their battle plan come Monday. Kaydel offered her feedback on general perception and what she’d collected from the various meetings she’d sat in on.   
  
The funny thing was, Rey couldn’t remember a single thing about the trip, even the ocean was a fleeting memory. All she could think about was Ben,  _ her soulmate _ , so she made due with nodding along and offering curt responses where she could add value.  
  
By the time the Uber deposited her outside of her apartment building, she was dead tired and itching to call Rose. Maybe she’d seen Ben, maybe she’d given him her number. Maybe if Rose hadn’t she could ask her or Hux for his number instead. Or his fucking address. She’s not above just showing up. Not anymore.  
  
Rey made her way upstairs, legs feeling as heavy as her heart. A very distraught Maz greets her then proceeds to mewl at the door long after Rey has shucked off her shoes and flopped on the sofa. Like she was looking for someone other than her human’s return. Ungrateful little fuzzball.  
  
She breathes out a heavy sigh and lifts up her phone to dia Rose. It goes straight to voicemail. The text she’d sent Rose earlier was bright green in their conversation window so there was no way to confirm whether Rose received it or not. Fine. She’ll just unpack and fill her time with mundane tasks until she gets _something_. Patience is her middle fucking name.  
  
Rey sits up, plods into her bedroom to unpack her duffle, turning it on its head to let its contents tumble out across her bed. A blast of cocoa, tobacco leaf and ginger hits her nose like a freight train and she stutters back. Eyes peeled she scans the pile of crumpled clothing she’d angrily stuffed into her bag.  
  
_ What the hell?  
  
_ There, a huge black hoodie lies bunched up with her chunky sweaters, not hers. Ben’s.  
  
She paws at it bringing it to her nose to take a deep inhale. That’s the stuff. The source of the scent. It’s him, it’s _ him _ . For two whole months she’d deluded herself that it had been nothing but good cologne. That her mind was playing tricks on her. All the while he’d been under her nose the whole time.  
  
It’s confirmation that everything she’d felt, everything she’d fought a losing battle with on that retreat, all of her intuitions (and that damn book’s) were right. Ben  _ is  _ her soulmate. Rey hugs the sweater into her chest, clutching it tightly. It’s a soothing vestige of  _ him _ . It whispers promises of happiness, of a future, stretching out endlessly while visions flood her mind.  
  
Visions of entwined fingers, murmured endearments, lazy Sundays and evening snuggles. Visions of long walks with his dog and foreign documentaries, both squinting to read the subtitles. Visions of a lace veil and Ben’s perfectly imperfect face against blooming cherry blossom trees. Visions of dark haired children with freckles and hazel eyes and endearingly large ears.  
  
Her heart pounds a hard tempo against her rib cage. The need for action, for reprieve from her inertia courses through her veins with every heartbeat. She needs to tell him ...  _ now _ .  
  
Flipping her laptop open she pulls up her email client, ready to pour her feelings out to him. It may not be ideal, sending it to his work email, but she needs to do  _ something _ because now there isn’t a sliver of doubt.  
  
At the top of her inbox sits an email from a sender she doesn’t recognize.

——

From: john@snokeassociates.com   
To: reyniima@rebelmediagroup.com  
Subject: This won’t look good

  
I hope this email finds you well,  
  
It has come to my attention that you have a questionable past that might impact your business dealings. Somehow, I find you may need to sort this out before it falls into the wrong hands, Ren. I suggest you take the proper steps to ensure you don’t lose everything you’ve worked for.  
  
Let’s have a chat.

——

She cocks her eyebrows. Must be the wrong sender because … what?   
  
There are 4 attached images.   
  
One is of Rey talking to Cardo Ren in the dark alley by a decrepit bar in Jakku. There’s an open box with very clearly wrapped bricks inside it, the contents obvious to anyone with eyes. Her hood is off her face, exposing it clearly to the security camera and Cardo’s helmet laying on top of the shipment. A knot grows in her throat.  
  
The second is of Rey standing in front of two men - Cardo and Kylo Ren. The two men are masked, her hood is pulled over her face, only her mouth visible. Alone this would mean nothing, but in conjunction with the first, it’s bloody incriminating. Her blood runs cold.  
  
The third is of Kylo talking to Cardo, his helmet is on but his tattoos are very clearly visible. Rey feels a cold shiver run up her spine, the knot in her throat tightens, because now she’d recognize those intricate patterns anywhere.  
  
The final picture is of Kylo Ren alone in the alley with his helmet looped between his arm and waist, his face captured clearly in the footage. Ben’s face peeks out from a mass of sweaty raven hair.   
  
Ben. Kylo Ren. Ben is Kylo Ren. Kylo Ren who’d lived. Kylo Ren who’d set her free.  _ Ben had set her free _ .   
  
With shaky fingers she hits  _ reply _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going somewhere, I promise.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Now Leia, this is blackmail. None of this is in official police reports. And I know you run background checks on your employees so I assume she has nothing on her record. Technically you should know nothing of this. If Ben hadn’t shown you, there’d be no grounds for termination besides speculation.”_
> 
> _“Oh nonsense Armitage, it’s my company I can do whatever I please including make up reasons to terminate employees,” she waves him off with a pish-posh hand wave. “Ben, stop gripping that towel and drop it off at the front desk. We can get you a fresh one.”_
> 
> _“Well you better build one hell of an HR case because you won’t get any complaints from me or anyone at First Order. Right Ben?” Hux looks his way._
> 
> _“Departments downsize all the time,” she continues unfazed, “perhaps it’s time I start investing more in SEO and hire freelance writers?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so, I know Leia's not the most likeable version of herself here, but hear me out. She's been exhibiting classic signs of controlling behaviour. Using physical force is part of that. Roll that together with her thinking she's doing what's best for her _only_ child and you've got ... well ... this Leia. Don't worry, she's gonna get put in her place in ... oh, say 1,000 words or so.

What floored Ben wasn’t the attached images revealing his past identity as Kylo Ren. That was shocking in its own right, but not what absolutely floored him.  
  
It’s the image of the broken scavenger, Kira, talking to Cardo. The image where her hood is pulled off revealing a face he could trace the outlines of in his sleep now. A face he will never grow tired of. The face that holds the promise of the universe in it. Rey’s. His soulmate.  
  
A pang rips through his chest. She’d been there all along. If only he’d have taken off that fucking helmet he’d have scented her 4 years ago. Things would be so different now.   
  
The same Kira who made his heart clench though he refused to acknowledge it, who was an orphan, who could barely feed herself. The same Kira who scared the shit out of every dealer they’d had in the south. It was all Rey. Like him, she had turned to a life of crime to support herself. Unlike him, her choice was by necessity. Before he’d even known it was  _ her _ , he’d done the right thing and managed to set her free.  
  
How beautifully she’d come out of that fire. She’d grabbed the opportunity and turned her life around, into a semblance of normal. Like he had. And fate had seen to bring them back into each other’s orbit once they’d both shed that skin for good. Because she’s his  _ soulmate _ .  
  
His heart clenches as memories of Kira wash over him. Her strength, her unrelenting light in the face of adversity. The way she’d stood tall when intimidated. The way she was reported to have manhandled everyone who dared cross the line.   
  
He’s glad he never gave into the Emperor’s requests to meet her. As she matured into her role, their performance in the south grew exponentially. To the point it had drawn the Emperor’s attention. He’d probably wanted her for himself, to utilize her skill set to further his reach but Kylo Ren always averted his attention, distracted him to avoid bringing her in. Now he knows why. His inner voice would whisper excuses, ones he’d heed though he didn’t understand. Now he does.  
  
It’s incredible, really, just how similar they are. How parallel their paths had run, how many times they’ve crossed while they failed to stop and smell the roses. Because if they had, they would have found each other long ago, the way fate intended them to.  _ That’s _ what he’s paying penance for, he realizes now. Not his past life of crime, but his inability to recognize what was right in front of him.  
  
Fists clenched tightly on the desk, anger bubbling in his veins at the threat against  _ her _ . He’s going to fix this. For her. For  _ his soulmate _ . He’ll figure it out, even if it lands him in jail because she deserves to be free. She deserves a reprieve from all the struggle and adversity she’s faced in her life. An iota of happiness for his angel.  
  
Ben stands up to leave the library with newfound resolve to go find Hux whom he’ll be able to bounce ideas off of. Who’ll be able to offer valuable input and options in dealing with this very obvious attempt at blackmail. One that could, effectively ruin him and by extension  _ her _ .  
  
“I need you to come with me,” he pats Hux on the shoulder. Hux is standing in the lobby with his arm on Rose’s lower back talking casually with Mitaka and his mother.  
  
Hux seems to understand the urgency in his tone because he extricates himself with a curt nod and a cleared throat, following him back to the library silently. Ben just points at his laptop and his friend takes a seat to read the email. His hand grasps the towel on his shoulder, bringing it to his nose to inhale her comforting scent.  
  
“This … is blackmail,” Hux’s cheeks are red with fury, eyes burning with outrage while his entire visage pales.  
  
“It is.”  
  
“Who would have thought that sweet, unassuming Rey…”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Hux chuckles, if only darkly, “You two really are made for each other.”  
  
Ben only snorts. Well  _ of course _ , she’s my fucking soulmate. No wonder she was easily spooked. No wonder she behaved like she was always looking over her shoulder. She’d grown up that way, had probably put herself through college that way.  
  
“We need to tell your mother. She knows about this as much as you and I.”  
  
“Hux I’d rather…”  
  
“No, Ben. She’ll know how to wrangle in the bullpen. I know you’ve had your differences but right now, you need her strength.”  
  
Ben swipes his hand over his face in frustration. Hux is right. Leia may have interfered with his soulmate all weekend, but this is definitely in her realm of expertise. It’s what she’s  _ good _ at. While Ben and Rey may have checkered pasts and know their way around intimidation and breaking bones, his mother knows how to perform the deadly dance of business politics.   
  
“I have a contact,” Hux adds, “who may be able to help out. I’ll place the call, you go get your mother.” He’s gesturing Ben to the door while he picks up the receiver to the landline phone on the desk.  
  
So he does. Albeit Reluctantly. Bringing her in risks stroking her controlling side and he’s uncertain how much more of  _ that _ he can take.  
  
Ben pulls his mother aside and explains there’s been a development. She insists on hearing the gist of it before stepping away from her duties as good hostess. When he’s explained it to the best of his abilities in hushed tones, she too blanches and excuses herself from Mitaka to join him in the library.  
  
Hux is mumbling on the phone as Leia sits hunched over Ben’s laptop reading the email, clicking the images, zooming in, over and over and over. He takes to pacing a new footpath in the floors, towel looped tightly in his hand. It’s starting to grow dark outside when Hux finally gets off the phone and addresses Leia.  
  
“Mind if I squeeze in? I need to forward this email to someone.”   
  
“Sure thing Armitage,” his mother vacates the seat, leaning against the desk beside his friend.  
  
“You know, I didn’t realize she had a criminal past. I’ll probably need to fire her over this.”  
  
_ That _ makes Ben’s pacing stop. He looks at her with complete and utter shock, eyes blown wide, neck craned like a fucking owl. Like she’d slapped him.  
  
“Now Leia, this is  _ blackmail _ . None of this is in official police reports. And I know you run background checks on your employees so I assume she has nothing on her record. Technically you should know nothing of this. If Ben hadn’t shown you, there’d be no grounds for termination besides speculation.”  
  
“Oh nonsense Armitage, it’s my company I can do whatever I please including make up reasons to terminate employees,” she waves him off with a pish-posh hand wave. “Ben, stop gripping that towel and drop it off at the front desk. We can get you a fresh one.”  
  
“Well you better build one hell of an HR case because you won’t get any complaints from me or anyone at First Order. Right Ben?” Hux looks his way.  
  
“Departments downsize all the time,” she continues unfazed, “perhaps it’s time I start investing more in SEO and hire freelance writers?”  
  
His hackles are rising. This is fucking ludicrous. Where does she get off talking about his soulmate like that? If he wasn’t busy trying to tamp down the rage building in him, he would thank Hux for supporting his soulmate, trying to protect her from his mother's ridiculous rant.  
  
“You need her Leia, and you know it. She’s a damn good writer,” Hux has raised his voice, colour high in his cheeks again.  
  
“Copywriters are a dime a dozen my dear. I don’t understand  _ why _ you two are so up in arms…”  
  
There’s a growl building in his chest, white hot fury that was simmering just above the surface is now boiling, spilling over unchecked. In one swift motion he clears the nearest decorative table, a dainty vase shattering all over the floor.  
  
“ **Enough!** ” His voice booms through the library, the windows rattle and he hears his mother yelp.  
  
“Enough,” he repeats again more quietly, still laced with venom and rage.  
  
There’s a pause, a heavy beat of silence as everyone stands stock still trying to gauge Ben’s rage.  
  
“Benny, I’m doing what’s best-”  
  
“ **Stop it!** ”  
  
“Now Ben it’s rude to interrupt your moth-“  
  
“No. I’ve had enough. You have  _ no _ idea what’s best for me,” he slams his fists on the desk, the rattle sending shockwaves through the floors. He can feel it vibrate through the soles of his shoes. Every muscle in his body is tensed, his veins throb with the fury coursing through them and heat licks up his spine dangerously, his closed fist clenches the towel like a lifeline.  
  
“When we agreed to work on our relationship I understood it was as adults. The more we’ve interacted the more you’ve fallen back into the habit of controlling me like an unruly child…” his chest is heaving with the effort to restrain himself, to check the blinding rage clawing out of him.  
  
“Benjamin, I can’t have a criminal working on…”  
  
“I’m a criminal, yet you work with me,” he points a finger at her, face contorted in anger, “you.  _ You _ . All you’ve ever done was put me down. ‘You can do better Ben’, ‘I’ve taught you better than that Ben’, ‘I know what’s best for you Ben’.  _ Do _ you? Know what’s best for me? What  _ I  _ want? What  _ I  _ need? Hmm?”  
  
Leia is staring at him flabbergasted, eyes wide and mouth agape.   
  
“I’ll tell you,” he laughs sardonically, “what I  _ needed  _ was my parents, not tutors and nannies. What I  _ wanted _ was for my parents to be proud, to  _ love  _ me for  _ me _ . Not dump me into whatever program was fashionable in your country club gossip circle. Not to be decorated in achievements and awards for you to dangle at your book club meetings over  _ wine _ . You know what’s good for me? Hmm?  _ Freedom _ .  _ Trust _ . My  _ soulmate _ .”  
  
“Benjamin everything I do for you is with the best intentions. It’s for your own good,” she hardens her face against his ebbing rage.  
  
“The road to hell is  _ paved _ with good intentions,” he hisses.  
  
His finger is pressing the point into the table roughly.   
  
“Do you know who that is Ma? Hmm? My soulmate?” he’s inching towards her again like a predatory bird, looming over her while the hardness she’d build around herself falters and crumbles again.  
  
“If you had  _ just. Taken. A longer. Look _ ,” he grinds out through clenched teeth, “you would have noticed her soulmate mark on her back.  _ Her mark _ … that matches mine.”  
  
It’s so quiet in the library you could hear a pin drop on a plush carpet. Nobody is breathing. Ben moves to slump into one of the wingback chairs defeated. His face falls into his open palms. Into the cradle offering him a sliver of Rey’s scent.  
  
“This is all my fault,” he starts muttering to himself on the verge of tears. The anger receding, giving rise to hopelessness and fear.  
  
“I shouldn’t have let her go. I shouldn’t have let her get away.  _ Fuck _ .”  
  
There’s mumbling that he can’t hear because his brain is screaming. Armitage and Leia are talking in hushed tones as wave after wave of misery wash over him. Even her scent can’t stop it. How did this spiral out of control so much? This is supposed to be a happy moment? How did it get turned into such a … clusterfuck?  
  
He doesn’t know when or how it happens, but he feels a set of small hands gently press on his knees. He feels a wetness there, the warmth of a breath. When he looks up from between his fingers his mother is kneeling before him, her face pressed on his knees, her back shaking. He’d made his mother cry and it makes him feel like an even bigger piece of shit.  
  
“Oh Ben,” she sobs between choked breaths, “I’m so sorry. I’m  _ so _ sorry. All I wanted to do was be a good mother and I’ve failed you.”  
  
He snorts, pressing his face back into his hands. This is  _ too much _ .  
  
“I thought I was helping you reach your full potential,” she’s gripping his knees tightly, willing him to look her in the eyes, “I … I never thought that the way to help you grow was to let you  _ go _ . I was so afraid to lose you again I smothered you instead.”  
  
“What you did and still do is  _ control _ me. All my life,” he groans sadly, “This won’t work if you don’t trust me. Not if you try to keep me under your thumb.”  
  
“I … I never wanted you under my thumb. I wanted you to thrive,” his mother hiccups.  
  
Aww fuck, here come the water works.  
  
“I’m proud of you Ben. I’ve always been proud of you. I’ve just been too blinded by the need to see you succeed to tell you.”  
  
And he’s crying freely now.  
  
“Ben, I’m so sorry ... I’m so sorry,” she sniffles, sad eyes imploring, “please tell me what to do to make it better?”

  
  


[x]

  
  


By 8:00 PM they’d managed to collect themselves, have some light snacks catered by the staff.  
  
Hux had left to let them talk. They’d gone over every childhood memory Ben had and Leia, after composing herself, had listened earnestly with wide eyes and horror. Like listening to his perspective gave her new insights. Like she was only now seeing the other side of the coin. She’d squeezed his hand and promised to do better, promised to help with Rey.  
  
Ben told her about everything he’d experienced with Rey, the magnetic pull, how even though he’d known he shouldn’t he simply  _ couldn’t  _ stay away. All of it confirming that she was his soulmate before he’d even seen her mark. He could see his mother’s jaw working, probably trying to tamp down one question or another about when the wedding is going to be. Then Artoo walked into the room with Hux announcing there was a call on park for them.  
  
The three huddle by the phone, his mother grasping his hand firmly, while Hux presses the speaker button.  
  
“Hello, this is Hux.”  
  
“Hello Armitage, this is private investigator Phasma. I trust everything is going well considering the circumstances?”  
  
“Quite,” Hux notes, “though I hope you have some news to brighten our evening?”  
  
“Aah, straight to the point. I do. But first, we need to discuss payment.”  
  
“Of course, please I will expense it…”  
  
“No,” Ben interrupts, “Phasma this is Benjamin Solo, the recipient of the email. I’d prefer to settle this matter from my personal accounts. What are your rates?”  
  
There’s a pause on the line, “So far, the research I’ve done was pro-bono as a favour to an old school friend. The fee for that is usually $500. I can’t tell you precisely what it will cost, but I’d say you’re looking at roughly $4,000. It depends on how much surveillance, tracking, and time it requires so that is a soft estimate, you understand. We can split it into a retainer upfront and the remainder on completion.”  
  
“I understand,” Ben intones, “you have my email. Send me your details and I will wire you what you need to get started.”  
  
There’s a heavy breath from the other line. “Good, then let me begin with what I’ve found.”  
  
It turns out that investigator Phasma had been quite productive in the handful of hours they’d spent blowing open their family dynamics. She’d managed to trace the email to an IP that she placed in the vicinity of The Empire. It was a nightclub, she explained, like he didn’t know about that shithole.   
  
She’d explained that the trace returned another recipient but without hacking into Snoke’s email, she wouldn’t be able to tell them who that was. Hacking was not guaranteed but another $1,000. There was a chance, she offered, that the photos had already been sent to authorities though that was highly given the main purpose was blackmail. Perhaps, she deduced, it was one of the other parties in the photos. That made a cold shiver run down his spine.  
  
Phasma had managed to extract Snoke’s cellphone number and used it to place him on site as of one hour ago. Offered to go and scope out the place, perhaps capture some evidence they could use, if Ben agreed of course. That part was included in the retainer she’d quoted. Of course, Ben agreed. What choice did he have? He needed to fix this, for Rey. For their future.  
  
Investigator Phasma exchanged phone numbers with Ben, sent him a confirmation text message which he promised to return the minute he got reception, then told him she’d be in touch as soon as she’d scoped out the nightclub for a few hours.  
  
“Whatever you do,” she’d said on the phone calmly, “do not engage. Do not respond. Proceed with your evening as usual until you hear from me.”  
  
The call disconnects and he feels infinitely lighter. 

  
  


—————————————————-

  
  


——

  
To:  john@snokeassociates.com   
From:  reyniima@rebelmediagroup.com   
Subject: Re: This won’t look good

  
Let’s talk

——

Rey hits send while her pulse is pounding in her ears, her heart is hammering against her rib cage so hard she fears it will tear her open. To soothe herself, she removes her cardigan and pulls on Ben’s, eerily reminiscent of the one she’d worn in the attached images.  
  
She pulls up her Chrome browser and types snokeassociates.com into the search bar. Sure enough, there’s a website attached to the address. It’s sleek, black and white with red accents. There’s a large image of a vicious looking older man with icy blue eyes that scream bloody murder. His name is John Snoke, the copy beneath the image tells her.  
  
Rey sets upon dissecting the website like she’s creating a sitemap for a new client. Burrowing into secondary and tertiary pages. On a well hidden page she only uncovers when she reads the XML sitemap, she finds their portfolio list. On it, is First Order.  
  
This must be the man Ben is trying to buy out. He’s blackmailing her soulmate over shares.  
  
Her rage spikes, Kira clawing out of her cage, roaring to life after laying dormant for years. This ancient fuckwit is threatening  _ her _ Ben … over  _ shares _ ?

  
  


——

  
To: reyniima@rebelmediagroup.com  
From: john@snokeassociates.com   
Subject: Re: Re: This won’t look good

  
10:00 PM. The Empire.

——

  
There’s a link attached with the address, but she doesn’t need it, she knows exactly where it is. This is the opening she needs. The opportunity. It’s just after 9:00 PM. If she takes the metro she can be there in 40 minutes. That gives her 20 minutes to get her shit together and brace herself for whatever this man is going to try to extort her with. Prepare herself for whatever needs to be done to bury this for Ben.  
  
Rey is no stranger to having to fight for what’s rightfully hers. She’d spent her youth fighting against poverty, against mean kids at school. She fought against Plutt and his authoritarian household, she fought the drug dealers who were stealing money out of  _ her _ pocket. She’d fought and clawed her way into Coruscant, into the office of Rebel Media Group, and she fought around the terrifyingly brilliant woman that is Ben’s mother. She can hold her own with a suit as much as a seedy asshole - and this one was both.  
  
Taking a deep, steadying inhale of his right sleeve, where his scent is strongest, she braces herself for what’s to come.  
  
Her poor soulmate. Maybe he’d had a family, maybe he’d grown up in a posh suburban neighbourhood with all the creature comforts, but that hadn’t made him any less lonely than she had been. He was alone, left to his own devices and forced into spiritual teachings that clearly didn’t align with his ideals. He was pushed into this as much as she had been, in his own way.  
  
One day, when this is all over, she’ll ask him about this. They’ll talk and laugh about the stupid mistakes they’d made when they were younger, just like they’d laughed about bad dates. Maybe she’ll tell him exactly how many times she’d broken Greedo’s nose, or how many times she’d left bruises on Jabba’s back. One day she’ll ask him about Cardo and if he’d had a family, if he really was a good guy like she’d guessed he was. One day, they’ll visit Jakku again together, hold hands and re-build new memories there, like they will again on Ahch-To.  
  
Together they’ll deconstruct their old selves and rebuild anew. Retrace their old steps. She and her soulmate fight the same battle and will rise out of its ashes stronger,  _ together.  _ A Phoenix.  
  
Pulling the book out of her purse she flips the pages haphazardly, looking to draw strength from its well of wisdom. Courage to do what must be done for  _ them _ .  
  
_ ‘When we love, we always strive to become better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too.’  
  
_ For him, she’ll become better and she’ll make everything around them better too. She’ll go into the Empire and won’t leave until this is buried, until there’s nothing left standing in their way.  
  
_ Again _ . She flips the pages at random looking for confirmation she’s on the right path.  
  
_ ‘There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve: the fear of failure _ .’  
  
She braces herself, tucking her phone and metro pass into the hidden compartment of her yoga tights. Reaching up, she rolls her hair into a loose bun and secures it with her lightsaber pen. Ready as ever, Rey opens the door ready to face this John Snoke.  
  
As she approaches the entrance to the metro, she pulls out her phone one more time to text Rose.  
  
REY:  _ Whatever happens tonight, tell Ben that it’s always been him _ .  
  
The message is still green but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that it’s out there, and that Ben will know. She set her phone on silent and walks down the stairs to get onto the waiting train.  
  
I will  _ not _ fail. I  _ will _ succeed. For Ben.

  
  


—————————————————-

  
  


Rose was sleeping on the sofa in the lobby by the time they were done. Hux woke her gently, ushering her yawning form into their waiting car. They’d all shuffled into their respective vehicles, ready to head home. Ben settled into his car, pressing the ignition button and waiting to set the GPS to home when he heard a soft knock on the window.   
  
Wrapped in Hux’s suit jacket, a puffy cheeked Rose was looking at him with fiercly determined eyes.  _ What now?  
  
_ He rolled down the window ready for another chastisement about having fucked things up with his soulmate. A chastisement he rightfully deserves and is all but ready to hear.  
  
“Give me your phone,” she said urgently, reaching into the cabin making grabbing motions.  
  
“What for?”  
  
“Because you’re idiots and if I don’t do this you’ll never fucking do it. Now  _ give me your phone, _ ” she stomped her feet into the gravel.  
  
He did, only to realize Rose was inputting Rey’s number in his phone. Dammit she’d been right, he really  _ was  _ an idiot. Why didn’t he think of asking for it?  
  
On his drive home he’d checked his phone every 30 seconds until he saw reception bars appear around 9:15 PM. After his phone had buzzed itself into a coma with the incoming emails and he’d had to plug it in, he responded to Phasma’s text to confirm receipt, email transferred her the funds, then scrolled through his contacts to find the one he’s been looking for. Rey.   
  
Before messaging her, he’d tapped the star next to her contact. Might as well put her in his favourites from now because she’s all that matters. Not that he’d had any favourite contacts before today anyway.  
  
  
BEN:  _ Rey?  
  
_ BEN:  _ It’s Ben. Can we talk please? _

He received an incoming call from Phasma informing him she was stationed at the nightclub, that she’d received the transfer and would be unavailable for a few hours. He confirmed he’d be available for a report whenever she’s done.  
  
An hour later though, he’d heard nothing from Rey.

BEN:  _ Please? It’s urgent. _

Two hours later, as he was driving into the suburbs on the outskirts of Coruscant, pushing speeds that would surely get him a ticket, he’d still not heard from her.

BEN:  _ Rey, I know it’s you. Please talk to me _ .

When he finally gets home at 1:00 AM without a peep from Rey, cold fear settled in his gut, curdling the blood in his veins. What if  _ she _ was the other recipient? What if Snoke’s  _ threatening _ her? His  _ soulmate _ ? He’d kill him and not even hesitate.  
  
He tries to call her. It rings but goes to voicemail, her angelic voice asking him to leave a message. He doesn’t, because who leaves a voicemail these days? He settles on sending her another message.

  
BEN:  _ Wherever you are, I’ll find you. I’m not leaving you again. Ever. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow, I give you 2 chapters. We're gonna roll through these at record speed now that they're written.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Rey Niima, nice to meet you,” his icy voice drips with venom._
> 
> _“Likewise,” she scowls back at him._
> 
> _“Such fire,” Snoke turns to the man in the cloak chuckling deeply, “such spunk. Tell me Rey, why are you here?”_
> 
> _She scoffs, “I should ask you that, John.”_
> 
> _“Straight to business, I see. I appreciate that in a person, you know,” he sneers maliciously, waving his hand dismissively towards her._
> 
> _“Well?”_
> 
> _“The First Order,” he straightens his back when he notices she won’t budge, after he’s attempted a game of silence she refused to play, won’t be intimidated by, “...and you will give it to me.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, so ... I'm not the squeamish type, but if you are, lemme issue some trigger warnings. This chapter contains brief mention of kidnapping. It also includes violence (watered down). If you're not a fan, I suggest just sorta skipping this whole chapter and moving straight to the next. You've been warned.

It’s weird seeing a nightclub dark and deserted. The black building with it’s heavy black double doors looks menacing without the bright flood lights and rowdy crowds lined up outside. Even the dim street lamps can’t seem to cast the building in a friendlier light. Then again, the overcast sky doesn’t help either. It feels like a place of doom.  
  
There are only a few cars parked on the road, all sitting empty from what she can tell, as if abandoned. She can’t fathom where their owners would be with the warehouses around the nightclub closed for the weekend. The only light in the area comes from the street lamps and even those only create pools of light separated by darkness. Rey looks to her left, her right, sensing for danger but the only thing she feels is a sense of dread coming from the doors straight ahead.  
  
She steels her resolve again and walks up to them, rapping on the expanse of black wood with more confidence than she feels.  
  
Rey hasn’t felt like this in a long time. At least 4 years. She’d dug into her new life with gusto. Compartmentalizing the shit she’d had to trudge through to unpack later, when she felt more settled. It seems that now, being here, she hadn’t lost that spark at all. The little box she’d tucked her old self into opened up the instant she knocked those doors. That fighting spirit that’d carried her through seedy alleys and into the workshops of dealers. The spirit that bolstered her from Plutt and the mean kids at school. Kira’s crawled out of her cage, roaring to life.  
  
The door opens and two large, intimidating men step out to flank her, as though  _ she’s _ the danger. Like they’re not 7 feet of dangerous apiece. She simply juts her chin at them, no differently than she would have at a new dealer looking to negotiate their buy-in.  
  
They usher her in, still flanking her, never talking, only pointing in the general direction they’ll be going. Together, they lead her across the dark dance floor, to the right behind one of the large wooden bars and up the short steps to the VIP. They walk her to a dark and narrow staircase where one of them clicks their flashlight to lead the way up, the other following behind her, boxing her in like she’s going to run, like she’s going to change her mind about whatever the hell this is. Like they’re protecting an asset. Her skin prickles with each step up.  
  
She follows their direction stoically, head held high, body braced and ready to fight. Because that’s what this is, a battle. Whether mental or physical remains to be determined but she feels dread creeping in from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. She’s sizing them up as they walk, finding their weak spots in case she needs to fight. 7 feet or not, every man has a weakness, you can fell any tree if you just know where to strike.  
  
The one on the left walks with a bit of a wobble, puts more weight on one leg than the other. She assumes his shins will be weak. The one on the right is sturdy, big, but he looks like he spends more time eating than in the gym, probably naturally large like Ben. He’ll probably be weak in the core. Details filed away in case they’re needed in a hurry.  
  
At the top of the stairs they come to a long, wide, L-shaped balcony. Her eyes dart across the expanse, straining against the darkness looking for a weapon, a tool, something she can use to her advantage. They lead her to the corner where there’s an office with light pouring from inside. The door is closed and the handleset has a thumb latch, another small detail to etch into her mind. Beside the door, she sees a piece of unused railing. It looks like it’s solid metal, about 6 feet long, useful and just the right length. She mentally earmarks that, pinning its location in her mind’s eye and begins to count the steps and their length back to it.  
  
The door swings open and 2 more bouncers pour out of the office to flank her.  
  
_ This is fucking ridiculous _ .   
  
She’s a woman, all of 5’6 and, for all intents and purposes, she’s here to talk about some questionable photos of Ben and herself. There’s no need for these ridiculous intimidation tactics.  
  
One of the bouncers gestures towards the door. Rey braces herself and takes measured steps towards it. Each step is counted, calculated, readily retraced in a fraction of a second to get to her weapon. The only variable unaccounted for is if the door is closed, barring her from getting to her choice of defense. Because that’s what it is now - her lifeline, her weapon,  _ survival _ .  
  
When she steps into the light of the small office she sees two men. One standing, leaning forward on a desk, wearing a ridiculously expensive looking black suit. The other sitting behind it wearing a … cloak with the hood drawn?  _ Who the fuck wears a cloak _ ? The one standing is clearly Snoke, she’s gathered that much. Recognized him instantly from his website. He’s just older, wrinklier, less photoshopped in real life.  
  
She juts her chin at him, a gesture he take the stage and skip the small talk.  
  
“Rey Niima, nice to meet you,” his icy voice drips with venom.  
  
“Likewise,” she scowls back at him.  
  
“Such fire,” Snoke turns to the man in the cloak chuckling deeply, “such spunk. Tell me Rey, why are you here?”  
  
She scoffs, “I should ask you that,  _ John. _ ”  
  
“Straight to business, I see. I appreciate that in a person, you know,” he sneers maliciously, waving his hand dismissively towards her.   
  
“Well?”  
  
“The First Order,” he straightens his back when he notices she won’t budge, after he’s attempted a game of silence she refused to play, won’t be intimidated by, “...and you will give it to me.”  
  
“How?” she tilts her head to the side in genuine curiosity. She’s got nothing to do with First Order. I mean sure it’s Ben’s but as far as this man knows, at  _ best _ she’s only written some articles for the company.  
  
“Your soulmate happens to be the President, and you will convince him to hand it over to  _ me _ .”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” her heart begins to beat a heavy rhythm in her throat. How the  _ fuck _ does he know?  
  
Snoke gestures to the sitting man.  
  
“Do you know who this is,  _ Kira _ ?”  
  
She cocks an eyebrow as if to say,  _ don’t give a fuck _ . Her face not betraying the bile that’s rising in her throat at her old alias or the revelation that they  _ know _ Ben is her soulmate.  
  
The man sitting pulls the hood of his cloak down and  _ oh _ if she doesn’t feel her resolve splinter at the sight. He’s hideous, his face burnt and scarred, skin bubbling across his right cheek and forehead. Marred with deep purple, red and white scars and pulled shiny and tight in strange places. His lips set in a malevolent scowl, made deeper by the melted skin on his jowls and his eyes bore into her.  
  
“It’s nice to finally meet you,  _ Kira _ ,” the man says, “My name is Sheev ... Sheev Palpatine.”  
  
She must be staring at his scarred face because his scowl deepens impossibly further.  
  
“Aah. I used to cook, you see, until one day I’d mixed up my recipe and it destabilized, doing this to me,” he explains gesturing to his face, “it was a day I’d lost a significant amount of revenue, you see, before I found alternate methods of investment of course.”  
  
She’s not sure she follows but lets him continue. Her stance solid, unmovable even though she trembles under the spikes of adrenaline roiling inside her in waves.  
  
“You see,  _ Kira _ , you’re quite lucky. People rarely get to know my name, even fewer see my face. Do you also know what that means, for you?”  
  
She cocks her eyebrows again. Shaking her head is out of the question, she needs a clear line of sight at all times. Her fingers itching to close around a weapon, the only thing keeping her calm is the scent of Ben’s sweater surrounding her, giving her strength.  
  
“It means you probably won’t live,” he cackles. Who the  _ fuck _ cackles? Her heart rate picks up another notch as a fresh flood of adrenaline rolls over her, the unmistakable lick of fire up her spine and into her brain searing the moment into her memory.  
  
“A long time ago I had a very lucrative business with some … friends ... we have in common. The Knights of Ren. You know them don’t you?” he leans forward, lacing his fingers together in front of his face.  
  
She nods once. No use hiding it, they’ve seen the pictures.  
  
“I had reports the south was starting to do really well. So I asked my Master Knight to bring in the reason for this uptick in business. He never did,” he gestures to her, “it turned out he’d had a weak spot for the runner that was so profitable. As you can imagine, I did a bit of digging. Do you know what I found?”  
  
She squints her eyes at him but swallows the knot that’s become lodged in her throat. No, wait, that’s bile pushing through her esophagus.   
  
“I found it was you. That you had a soulmate mark on your back. You see, Unkar Plutt quite easily gave me the necessary information to put two and two together. I also found my Knight had one on his forearm. He’d tried to hide it with those tattoos, like his predecessor, but you can’t pull the wool over my eyes.”  
  
His glare bores into her again, with more intensity than before, standing up and walking (floating?) around the desk to stand in front of it, looming like a demonic apparition.  
  
“He didn’t even know. Poor Kylo Ren. His soulmate right under his nose and he didn’t know all that time. Tell me child, does he know now?”  
  
Self preservation kicks in, the need to protect what’s hers. To protect Ben. She gives the men the slightest of head shakes. “No,” she adds with conviction. Best to keep  _ that _ under wraps.  
  
“Well, he did protect you, wouldn’t bring you in no matter how much I pressed. Then, one day, to my surprise I get word his club blew up and all the knights died. That’s the day I…” he gestures to his face, “well … he didn’t matter. But I did lose a good runner that day.”  
  
He takes a few steps towards her, Snoke following behind like a shadow. Rey’s fights the instinct to run, she only takes a single controlled step backwards, inhaling deeply. Inhaling Ben’s strength, Ben’s scent. Tamping down the urge to bring the right sleeve up to her nose where his scent is strongest.  
  
“I lost a lot of revenue that night. So imagine my surprise when I find out that Kylo Ren had survived, taken on his birth name of Benjamin Solo and ran a  _ very _ profitable business. Then my business associate, Snoke here, saw you with his employees a few months ago and, well … how very serendipitous,” his voice absolutely dripping with venom now.  
  
They take another step towards her and she takes another back in stride. It’s the dance before the battle, a predator sizing up the prey. That’s what this is now. There’s no talking her way out of it anymore. The knowledge settles in her gut like a boulder, the only outward sign she’s ready is a single finger twitch.  
  
“Now I know you won’t help willingly,  _ Kira _ . Nor will you go back to running. But what you  _ can _ do is give us a very profitable asset.”  
  
“W-what are you going to do?”  
  
“Oh it’s simple,” Snoke cuts in lacing his fingers behind his back to straighten to his full height, “we’re just going to keep you here, send our friend Benjamin a picture of your mark and have him sign the documents to relinquish the company to Snoke and Associates.”  
  
“I won’t stay here,” she rings out loud and clear, the warble in her voice must be giving her away. She’s stepping back again, a foot shy of the door, a 3 second shuffle from having her weapon in hand.  
  
“It’s not a question of what you want,  _ Kira _ ,” Sheev says, “you have no choice.”  
  
She notices his eyes dart over her shoulder and the smallest of imperceptible nods. It’s the cue. They’re planning on taking her. She sucks in a single, shallow breath before instinct kicks in.  
  
The adrenaline that’s been building in her system moves her to action, in exactly 3 seconds she’s jumped out of the door, her eyes straining against the darkness to grab the spare railing. It’s solid, thick,  _ perfect _ .  
  
Another deep breath.  _ You have to fight to soar _ .  
  
The bouncers are closing in on her and she snarls, baring her teeth at them. This is nothing, she reminds herself, she’s dealt with worse. How many dealers tried to jump her for the wares? How many were high out of their trees and unable to feel pain?  
  
She thinks of Ben, closes her eyes taking in deep breaths filled with the scent of  _ him _ . Her strength. The reason she’s doing this. Her muscles twitch and she jumps into the fray.  
  
Two bouncers move forward first, she holds the bar horizontally and presses it forward and upwards, effectively hitting them in the chest with all her might. They stagger back enough to give her the opportunity to shuffle out of the corner, away from the wall she’d been pressed against. In open space she’s more in her element.   
  
She begins to twirl the railing, letting it cut through the air with an audible whoosh.  _ This _ is her intimidation strategy. The two bouncers move towards her again, a little more carefully this time.  
  
The blunt end of the railing connects with one’s stomach before twisting against the chest of the other, then she whirls it again to smash into the first man’s shins. She feels his legs give against her blow as he crumples to the floor. The other is winded but straightens out so she lunges at him and cracks the railing against the soft spot between his shoulder and neck. He too, crumples to the floor.  
  
Rey stands up to her full height, goading, panting,  _ smirking _ , waiting for her opponents next moves.   
  
The bouncer with at least one broken shin stirs and she whips the railing against the back of his neck. When the other makes to do the same, she twirls the railing and whacks him in the same spot.  
  
The other two look confused, like this was supposed to be easy. Ha, little do they know she’s  _ volatile _ . There’s a glint of something as they reach for their sides.  _ Shit _ . Guns.  
  
_ No time to think. _ Rey instantly jumps forward and with quick, precise movements she strikes hard against their wrists to knock the weapons loose. Crouching down she sweeps the guns away with the railing, over the edge of the bannister to the clatter down below.  
  
They shake their hands out confused and angry but begin to circle her in tandem immediately. Rey stands stock still, letting their movements give them away. Watching, listening,  _ feeling _ . One makes the mistake of taking an unsteady step forward earning him a hard whip against the head. He grabs the spot she’d whipped moments ago, wincing in pain but before he can withdraw further she swings the railing against the same spot again, sending his body to the ground.   
  
Her focus must have given the other an opening because he’s moved in too close for her to wield the railing efficiently. She springs back, propelling herself in the opposite direction to create space and give her weapon the advantage. Rey finds herself beside the wall by the stairs, not boxed in but not 360 degrees of freedom either.  _ Shit _ .  
  
Rey begins striking towards him, her muscles tired now from exertion, sluggish after using most of her strength against 3 large men. This bouncer also proves more deft than the others. On one particularly hard swing she misses, striking an electrical box instead. The force of her attack sends sparks flying out of it in all directions. She must have watched the sparks too long because the bouncer sees a second opening and crowds her in, grabbing her wrist in a vice like grip, twisting it before his free fist connects with her stomach.   
  
Rey falls to the floor one hand reaching to brace her stomach, her grasp on the railing slackened by the pain flooding her system. She’s gasping, wincing in pain. His hand fists in her hair, pulling and yanking, sending shocks of pain down her spine, temples throbbing. This is  _ not _ how she’s going to go.   
  
Everything slows down, experience suspended in slow motion. She can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Her eyes fix on the sparks flying out of the electrical box. They’re catching on a curtain, the telltale signs of smoke begin rising. Her eyes trail over to Snoke and Palpatine who are standing in the doorway of the office, grinning victoriously.   
  
_ No _ , they won’t take this from her. She’d  _ just found him _ , their story doesn’t end today.   
  
Rey isn’t a trained fighter, she’s not a soldier bound by rules of engagement. This is sheer will to survive. Her fist clenches at her side and connects at full force with the bouncer’s groin. His release on her head is instantaneous and he folds over in pain. Standing up, Rey uses her position to her advantage and kicks her knee into his face, feeling his nose give from the pressure. She grips the railing tightly and stumbles back to regain her footing.  
  
Her vision’s turned red with fury and she unleashes a flurry of strikes against the bouncer’s hunched form until he stops moving. In that moment he’s  _ every _ ugly thing Plutt had said to her,  _ every _ snigger and mean remark of every kid in school, he’s  _ everyone _ that’s ever hurt her and she releases all that pent up anger against his slumped form.  
  
Her eyes shoot to the open office door, filled with fire, veins singing with unchecked rage. The grins on the two old fuckwits faces now wiped off and replaced by fear. Beside her the curtain’s caught fire, bright flames licking up the coarse black fabric and spreading quickly towards the office doors.  
  
_ Ashes.  
  
_ She moves towards the two men, snarling, whipping the railing through the air, twirling it to intimidate those who  _ dared _ extort her Ben. They’ll pay for this. The two men cower back into the office, their protection detail null and void. Snoke slams the door shut behind them. She tries to jiggle the handle but the coward’s locked it, shut her out from delivering their dues.  
  
Rey releases a series of strikes against the door with the railing, splinters flying through the air on impact, “come out you  _ cowards _ ,” she screams like a feral animal.   
  
There’s a bright orange flicker in her peripheral vision, the smell of smoke draws her attention from the violent strikes she’s unleashing against the door. The acrid stench of burning clears the mental fog of her anger. Her rational self comes to, taking in her surroundings, realizing the ceiling has now caught fire, flames rising up to the ceiling and down the walls.  
  
_ A Phoenix rising _ .  
  
If she doesn’t get out in the next 5 minutes she’ll never survive. But the two assholes in the office can’t live either. That’s decided. Using the railing to blockade the door, she pulls it through the loop of the handle, using the lightsaber pen from her hair to secure it in place, effectively disabling the door from opening. Let them  _ burn _ . The way Ben had burned down the Knights for her, she will burn down his masters for him. For  _ good _ . For  _ ever _ .  
  
The adrenaline in her system is draining, fast. She can feel the way the pain in her abdomen intensifies, the way her scalp stings and blood trickles where the bouncer fisted her hair. Her wounds throb and she covers her mouth to keep the smoke out, stumbling down the stairs and towards the door.  
  
Flames are raging wildly around her now, the bottom floor is a sea of orange, red and yellow. She brushes past burning velvet chairs and sofas, singes her thighs and forearms limping towards the doors. Upstairs is completely engulfed and she feels a twinge of regret at the lives that are going to be lost tonight.   
  
_ No, they deserve this.  _ Her old self rebuts. They tried to take you, tried to extort Ben. Let them  **_burn_ ** .  
  
With her last shred of strength she kicks the front door open to stumble out into the dark street where she falls to her hands and knees, heaving. She stays there, taking in big gulps of fresh air, cringing against the shooting pains from her wounds.  
  
_ Bloody hell  _ she’s going to need a doctor. How is she going to explain this? “Someone tried to kidnap me, extort my soulmate, then I beat the crap out of 4 massive bouncers and set a building on fire.” Yeah that’ll go down easy.  
  
How many felonies is that? 2 or 3? Does she get brownie points for taking out a pretty big drug dealer?   
  
In the distance, the sound of sirens can be heard.  _ Shit _ . She needs to get out of here. How were they even notified? Did Snoke or Palpatine call 9-1-1? Taking a big inhale, she cranes her neck to look back - the building is ablaze, huge plumes of black smoke rise from the roof into Coruscant’s night sky. Plumes reaching so high they could probably be seen for miles around.  
  
Staggering to stand back up, she feels the weight of a hand on her bicep. A tall, blonde woman with short cropped hair wearing black slacks and a black button down is helping her up.  _ Fuck _ please don’t be another one of their thugs. She doesn’t even have a weapon anymore nor strength to fight.  
  
“Rey?”  
  
She unfurls to her full height in front of the woman, ignoring the way everything throbs, “who’s asking?”  
  
The woman just laughs and extends her hand, “private investigator Phasma. If you’d like to avoid authorities I suggest you come with me.”  
  
Rey cocks her eyebrow at the woman, this … Phasma. Tonight, she can’t trust anyone but herself.  
  
“Well come on then,” Phasma says nudging her head in the opposite direction, “let’s go.”  
  
Rey stands stock still, confused, unable to make heads or tails of the situation. Should she? Trust this woman? She’s vulnerable now. The adrenaline has long worn off and her wounds throb. She can’t defend herself anymore, the authorities are the safer bet but worse in the long run.  
  
Phasma sighs, “I was hired to snoop on Snoke by a client. You’re safe with me.”  
  
And that about does it for her. Maybe it’s the fear of never seeing Ben again. If she stays, that’s a very probable outcome. Sure he may come see her at trials or visit her in jail because she  _ for sure _ faces time, but this woman is dangling the golden carrot of hope before her. To let her rise from these ashes unscathed. Rey nods and follows the woman to her car.   
  
Her body feels heavy,  _ so _ heavy. Her joints are stiff, her thighs and forearms burn, pounding uncontrollably. Her scalp is stinging and her stomach is tender. Halfway across the road she collapses as the sirens draw nearer. That seems to set Phasma in motion because Rey feels herself being shuffled to her feet again, being supported to a waiting car. Deposited into the passenger seat gingerly. The woman runs to the other side, turns the car on and takes off at record speed.  
  
“Can you take me home?” Rey asks hopefully. Her fingers press into her stomach, testing just how tender it is. Maybe all she needs to do is sleep this off, deal with the wounds later. Nothing some polysporin and ibuprofen can’t handle, right?  
  
“I’m taking you to a private medical facility. They don’t ask questions as long as you pay handsomely. Judging by what you’ve done, you need as few questions as possible.”  
  
“H-how do you…”  
  
“As I’ve said, I was hired to snoop for a client. I snuck inside and heard  _ everything _ .”  
  
There’s a beat of silence in the car as they pull out of the industrial area and onto the main roads. In the mirror, Rey can see The Empire completely engulfed in flames. There’s no way Snoke or Palpatine made it out. Not with the way she’d wedged that door shut.  _ Good _ . She begins to feel heavy again, her eyelids drooping from exhaustion.  
  
“You did a brave thing in there, Rey,” Phasma coos at her gently.  
  
Rey’s hands reach back for her phone. There she sees 5 messages from an unknown number. They were from Ben. Her vision starts to blur so she quickly sends out a message.   
  
  
REY:  _ I took care of it  _ 💖

  
Rey would like to ask Phasma who her client is, how she got there, why she was snooping, why she knows her name.  
  
Instead, she falls asleep, forehead pressed against the cool window overcome with exhaustion.

  
  



	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The remainder of the video is … well it’s mind blowing._
> 
> _He remembered Cardo telling him she was good with a hiking stick, that it was her preferred method of pain infliction, he just would have never placed sweet Rey with her wide hazel eyes and her soft mouth and her bright smile being this … volatile. Watching her, he’s equally fascinated by her and scared for her. It’s an odd mix of feelings but there’s a little voice at the back of his head gleefully singing that’s my girl. He must be standing straighter, his chest must be puffing out, because he sees Phasma grin, nodding approvingly._

Ben is restless, pacing up and down his hall, scuffing circles around his living room and kitchen floors. He’d send Jannah a text asking her to keep Chewie overnight. Not that she’d get it until the morning anyway. It should be fine. She’s never complained and he pays her handsomely. What’s really irking him is that he has no clue where his soulmate is.  
  
_ Where is she _ ?  
  
The email from Snoke set him on edge. He can’t kick the feeling that something’s wrong with Rey and there’s nothing he can do about it. For a moment, he debates calling his mother for her address, maybe she has it on file at home. Then again, he’d also just managed to reset things with his mother, he’d like to avoid roping her back in. It’s well after midnight and he’d been told to continue with his evening as usual. Except it’s early morning and all he can think about is that he hasn’t heard from Rey.  
  
Ben settles on trying to sort through some emails, maybe a few mundane reports will take the edge off. Maybe it’ll put him to sleep so he can get some rest from this clusterfuck of a day. Pfft, fat chance.  
  
He throws his phone on his bed, changes into a pair of clean sweat pants and tee, then props himself up against the headboard with his laptop perched on his lap. In his inbox, he finds an email from the PI with three zip files. Three names: John Snoke, Sheev Palpatine, Rey Niima.  
  
The first is details on Snoke. It turns out he’s not the owner of the company though he’s the title partner, instead he answers to someone named Sheev Palpatine. The silent majority in his firm who really pulls the strings. The reports in that file also include multiple court orders and extortion claims from companies in his portfolio.  _ Fuck _ he should have hired a PI before he’d agreed to Snoke’s buy-in.  
  
The second is on this Sheev Palpatine. The minute Ben saw the photos he knew exactly who that was. The Emperor. The man who’d provided their product. The man who’d ask for Kira but was denied time and time again by Kylo Ren. There’s a few documents in there including a few drug trafficking charges he’d gotten out of with the help of some very good lawyers. There’s also a report from a hospital dated the night Ben had excised himself from the Knights of Ren. Apparently Sheev had an accident cooking, the product destabilized leaving him with some pretty serious facial burns.  
  
What was worse, there was footage of him visiting Unkar Plutt and a coroner’s report for Plutt dated the same day. There was also a list of his known associates with their COD. One was Ren. The COD listed by the coroner was overdose (as were the majority of the others). It turns out, he had a thing for making his adversaries' deaths look like overdoses. He’d  _ lied _ . In Sheev’s files, was also a copy of the deed for The Empire nightclub.  
  
Lastly, there was a report on his Rey. There wasn’t much. A scan of a scratchy hand written note stating her date of birth and name as Rey. Not even a last name. Ben deduces this was the note left with her on the steps of the orphanage. There was a sweep of babies born that day at hospitals in the vicinity, none matching her name. There was a picture of an old, abandoned girl’s orphanage in England, a transfer record to Our Lady Niima in Jakku, and the name of her social worker, Maz Kanata. There was a list of foster homes she’d lived in, the longest being Plutt from ages 12 through 18.  
  
Phasma also attached school records. Notes on unruly behaviour and physical altercations, malnourishment and a lot of crying. His heart clenches reading them.  
  
‘ _ Rey Niima refused to partake in Macaroni art for Mother’s Day. She started crying and kicking. Sent to principal’s office. _ ’  
  
‘ _ Rey Niima kicked Suzy Charleston and pulled her hair. Apparently Suzy made fun of her ripped shoes. Sent to principal’s office. _ ’  
  
‘ _ Rey Niima punched Todd Blackburn because he made fun of her not having lunch. Sent to principal’s office.’  
  
_ What kind of fucking school is this? They let a kid get bullied? They let her go hungry? They forced her into doing mother’s day art when she was an orphan?   
  
He’d always known Jakku was a shithole, this just proved it. His fists clench and unclench hovering over the keyboard of his laptop. He’ll go back to Jakku one day and burn the fucking place to the ground, maybe don his old Kylo Ren gear and pay these assholes a visit.  
  
His phone vibrates with an incoming call and he all but knocks his laptop over trying to reach for it.  _ Rey _ .  
  
It’s Phasma.   
  
“I got your reports,” he tells her sighing and pushing his palm into his eye socket.  
  
“And I have good news for you. You don’t have anything to worry about anymore,” she tells him cheerily. There’s a pause on the line before she continues.  
  
“Are you by a television per chance?” she asks.  
  
“I can be.”  
  
“Good, turn it onto HoloNet news.”  
  
He does, following her instructions while she waits patiently on the line. He shuffles into the living room, turns the TV on, navigates to the HoloNet.   
  
At 2:00 AM, there’s live footage of a raging fire, four firetrucks stationed around a building and a plethora of firemen attempting to douse it from every angle. The news ticker at the bottom scrolls by:  
  
**Fire at The Empire Nightclub  
  
** Ben’s blood runs cold.   
  
“The two men attempting to blackmail you were  _ definitely _ inside. I can confirm that.”  
  
“How…”  
  
“The other recipient was there.”  
  
There’s silence again, Ben is all but flabbergasted. The scene on TV is surreal but holds a tinge of deja vu. Reminders of the House of Ren. How he rose from its ashes and in the process set her free.  
  
Why is his gut screaming in pain? Why does his scalp tingle?  _ Where’s Rey?  
  
_ “Umm, Phasma? Can I … ask you a favour?”  
  
“Go on,” she sounds skeptical.  
  
“I need to find someone. I’m willing to pay, of course, I just…” he sighs, “I need to know.”  
  
There’s silence on the line, waiting for the pin to drop.  
  
“The woman in the photos, I need to find her.”  
  
Phasma chuckles, “that one is free of charge. I can be there in 30. Send me your address.”  
  
The call disconnects and Ben navigates to his messages to send Phasma his address when he sees a message from Rey.  
  
_ When the fuck did this come in _ ?  
  
1:10 AM

REY:  _ I took care of it _ 💖

Holy shit it’s her and she’s OK. 

BEN:  _ Sweetheart are you ok?  
  
_ BEN:  _ Where are you? _

The messages send but turn green. As though her phone is off, or dead?  _ Fuck _ !  
  
Doesn’t matter, for her he’ll wait. So he watches the footage and reports on HoloNet news clutching his phone tightly, waiting for it to vibrate with a response from Rey. When it finally does, it's the front desk confirming the arrival of a guest. Ben confirms he’s expecting and waits in the foyer for Phasma. It’s been half an hour and he hasn’t heard back from Rey.

BEN: _ Are you ok?  
  
_ BEN:  _ Rey? _

The elevator opens and a tall blonde woman with short hair steps out. She’s wearing black slacks and a black button down. This must be Phasma, the hired PI who’s now ogling his apartment with wide eyes, whistling.  
  
“I should have charged you more,” she smirks at him without malice reaching out her hand, “Investigator Phasma. Pleased to meet you Mr. Solo.”  
  
Her handshake is solid, professional,  _ strong _ . Ben chuckles and sweeps his arm towards the hallway into his living room.  
  
“Can I get you anything?” he asks, moving around the large kitchen island to the fridge.  
  
“I’ll take a water if it’s alright with you,” she nods.  
  
Ben retrieves a glass from the cabinet and fills it up from the fridge’s spout, delivering it to Phasma on a coaster.  
  
“Right, the woman…” she starts after she’s gulped down half the glass, “she’s your soulmate, isn’t she?”  
  
Ben’s jaw flaps open and shut.  _ How?  
  
_ “She was there,” Phasma starts again when his words fail him, “at the Empire.”  
  
He  _ knew _ it. Every bone in his body screamed she was in danger, screamed for him to find her.  _ Fuck _ he should have gone to the Empire with Phasma. What kind of shitty soulmate is he anyway? He’s proven woefully inept at providing for her. He’s let her slip through his fingers multiple times, let her fall prey to the assholes he’s found himself in bed with. He really doesn’t deserve her.  
  
“Is she alright?” he blinks, features strained with worry.  
  
“You should see this,” she pulls out a recorder and a laptop. Phasma begins connecting the devices, setting up a small station on his kitchen island, double clicking a video file and turning the screen to him. She moves the timer bar around until she gets to the spot she wants to show him.  
  
The recording is fuzzy, terribly zoomed in, but Rey is clearly visible standing stock still, tense. In front of her are two figures, one looks like Snoke, the other has a terribly burnt face.  
  
“Palpatine,” Phasma tells him, tapping the screen over the other man.  
  
‘ _ He didn’t even know. Poor Kylo Ren. His soulmate right under his nose and he didn’t know all that time. Tell me child, does he know now? _ ’  
  
The Emperor. Ben would recognize that voice anywhere.  
  
‘ _ No. _ ’  
  
He sees her shake her head.   
  
‘ _ Well, he did protect you, wouldn’t bring you in no matter how much I pressed him. Then, one day, to my surprise I get word his club blew up and all the knights died. That’s the day I… well … he didn’t matter. But I did lose a good runner that day. _ ’  
  
There’s silence before the man speaks again.   
  
‘ _ I lost a lot of revenue that night. So imagine my surprise when I find out that Kylo Ren had survived, taken on his birth name of Benjamin Solo and ran a very profitable business. Then my business associate Snoke here saw you with his employees a few months ago and, well … how very serendipitous. _ ’  
  
Ben feels a shiver crawl up his spine. The two figures seem to be moving closer to Rey and she looks to be reversing.   
  
‘ _ Now I know you won’t help willingly, Kira. Nor will you go back to running. But what you can do is give us a very profitable asset. _ ’  
  
‘ _ W-what are you going to do? _ ’  
  
‘ _ Oh it’s simple, we’re just going to keep you here, send our friend Benjamin a picture of your mark and have him sign the documents to relinquish the company to Snoke and Associates. _ ’  
  
That’s Snoke’s voice. Ben inhales sharply and fists his hands tightly at his sides. These  _ snakes _ are threatening his soulmate! They’ll  _ burn _ for this.   
  
“Hold on it gets really good here…” Phasma tells him as though she was re-watching a favourite movie. Like the alien is about to attack the protagonist in a delicious jump scare. He has half a mind to offer her popcorn the way she wriggles against the counter with excitement. Then again, he’s watching his  _ soulmate _ being  _ threatened _ .  
  
‘ _ I won’t stay here _ ,’ she’s taking another step backwards.  
  
‘ _ It’s not a question of what you want, Kira, you have no choice. _ ’  
  
There’s another beat of silence before her form blurs and in an instant she’s outside the office doors. The camera adjusts, panning back and he gets a cleaner view. There’s a lens shift as night vision kicks in and everything is swathed in green.  
  
Rey is standing against the wall holding a piece of metal piping or a rod. It looks long and solid. Her legs wide and unbending, the rod clutched in front, teeth bared. There’s the fighting spirit he remembers from Kira. The sure stance, the interminable spirit, the defiance in the face of adversity. His heart swells.  
  
There are 4 large thugs, 2 of which are standing back. Ben gulps heavily, heart thumping in his chest. The first two approach her and she smashes them in the chest with the bar then jumps away from the wall into open space.   
  
The remainder of the video is … well it’s mind blowing.  
  
He remembered Cardo telling him she was good with a hiking stick, that it was her preferred method of pain infliction, he just would have never placed sweet Rey with her wide hazel eyes and her soft mouth and her bright smile being this … volatile. Watching her, he’s equally fascinated  _ by _ her and scared  _ for _ her. It’s an odd mix of feelings but there’s a little voice at the back of his head gleefully singing  _ that’s my girl _ . He must be standing straighter, his chest must be puffing out, because he sees Phasma grin, nodding approvingly.  
  
She’d laid out three of them, the last thug punches her in the gut and grabs her hair, but his little scavenger smashes him in what looks to be the groin then unleashes a flurry of whips on him with the piping. The feed cuts after she’s felled the last thug and is marching towards the office door. Smoke and flames already starting to grow exponentially around her. When the screen goes black he leans forward tapping the play button furiously.  
  
“Where … what happened? Where is she?”  
  
His heart is beating a heavy rhythm in his chest with worry.   
  
“She’s fine,” she dismisses him grinning, “helluva spirit huh?”  
  
“Where. Is. She?” he grinds out through gritted.  _ Sure it was impressive but that’s not your soulmate in peril, lady. _ He needs to know where she is and he needs to know it  _ now.   
  
_ “I took her to a private medical facility to treat her wounds. She’s exhausted but the doctors tell me she’ll be just fine.”  
  
“Give me…”  
  
“Of course, here,” she waves his concern away, reaching into her bag to fish out a card.  
  
Kamino Private Clinic.   
  
“They don’t ask questions, if you’re wondering.”  
  
Ben reaches for his phone, starting to type in the phone number on the card when he feels Phasma’s hand on his wrist.  
  
“I know you’re concerned, but I promise you she’ll be just fine. You need to give her some time to heal. At least rest for the night. Go see her tomorrow, but soulmate or not, she doesn’t need any more stress today.”  
  
Phasma’s right. Of course she’s right. After what he’s seen, Rey probably needs to sleep for 24 hours but he itches so  _ badly _ to be near her, to make sure she’s okay and touch her, feel her pulse and thank his lucky stars the universe has gifted him the most resilient half a soul.  
  
“I’m still calling the clinic,” he says defiantly, “gotta give them payment information.”  
  
“Aah yes, Mr. Moneybags over here,” Phasma gestures around the apartment while standing up to leave.   
  
And that’s what he does. He ushers Phasma out of his apartment, calls the clinic where, after some heated conversation with reception, he manages to wrangle himself as her emergency contact and secure payment will be taken care of upon her discharge. Ben also pulls up his email client to send one last email before turning in for the night.

——  
  


From:  b.solo@firstorder.com  
To:  a.hux@firstorder.com   
Subject: WFH Tomorrow

Hux

When you get this, please make sure to give staff a work from home day in lieu of our weekend. Also, call me when you get this. I have a few things to discuss with you.

B.S.  
  


——

That night, he dreamt of Rey hugging his pillow tightly.

  
  


—————————————————-

  
  


Her mouth is dry, all she hears is the quiet beeping of a heart rate monitor and she feels terribly sore. When she opens her eyes she’s assaulted by a sea of white. White ceilings, white walls, bright fluorescent lights that make her wonder how she’s managed to even sleep. There’s a tightness around her index finger so she lifts her hand to examine. It feels heavier than usual, but then, she doesn’t usually wear a pulse oximeter nor does she wear a medical admission band.  
  
Rey blinks a few times confused before the events of the previous night come flooding back. The Empire, Snoke and Palpatine, the bouncers, Phasma.  _ Ben _ .  
  
She wiggles her fingers and toes, presses her hand against her stomach to test for pain - it’s tender but much better than it felt last night. Ever so carefully she uses her forearms to prop herself up.   
  
What had Phasma called this place last night? A private clinic? That didn’t ask questions? What time is it anyway?  
  
Rey sits up fully in the hospital bed, tilting her head from side to side to test for stiffness. Surprisingly, there’s none. Her forearms sting though and she notices both of them have been wrapped in gauze.   
  
Swinging her legs over the side she slides off the bed, testing her balance, waiting for a dizzy spell which doesn’t come. The room itself is small, barren, mostly white with the exception of a few medical contraptions, two walnut doors and a yellow reading chair by a window. Her clothes sit neatly folded on the chair with her phone and metro pass on a small side table and she moves to start getting changed when the door opens. An older woman in a white coat walks in.  
  
“Glad to see you’re awake Ms. Niima, how are you feeling?” the woman asks while making notes on a clipboard.  
  
“Fine. How … how did you know I was awake?”  
  
The doctor points at the oximeter clamped on her finger. Aah, of course.  
  
“Your vitals look great. If you don’t mind I’d like to check your wounds then prepare you for discharge if everything checks out. Will that be alright with you?”  
  
Rey looks at the name tag on the doctor’s coat. Dr. Kalonia. Private clinic … private room. This is expensive,  _ fuck _ . She needs to get out of here as soon as possible to mitigate her bill.   
  
“Of course, Dr. Kalonia,” she agrees and moves to sit back on the bed.  
  
The doctor covers Rey’s lower half with the blankets, lifts up the top of Rey’s gown to expose the blooming bruise on her stomach then applies a goopy paste to it. It’s cool and tingles but has no smell.   
  
“Let that dry down fully before getting dressed,” the doctor coos at her soothingly while she’s massaging it into what will surely be a wicked bruise in a rainbow of colours.  
  
She then has her forearms undressed, the paste applied, then re-dressed with clean gauze. Lastly, the doctor repeats the same process on her thighs before reaching into a drawer, pulling out a large jug to refill the tin.  
  
“Take this with you and apply it liberally twice a day to all your wounds. You should heal just fine within a week,” Dr. Kalonia places the tin on the counter, patting it gently to draw Rey’s attention to it.  
  
“What is it? Can’t I just use polysporin?”  
  
The doctor laughs, shaking her head, “it’s a proprietary blend we make on site here, we call it bacta gel. It’s like polysporin but works exceptionally faster.”  
  
Alright,  _ fine _ . Hopefully this tin of goop isn’t some $200 version of polysporin because she’ll definitely argue  _ that _ off the bill.   
  
“Can I … go home?”  
  
The doctor checks her chart, “yes, everything looks in great order. You just needed your wounds dressed and a lot of rest.”  
  
“W-what time is it?”  
  
“3:00 PM.”  
  
_ Shit _ . She’s so getting written up for this or worse, fired. Would Leia fire her? She missed an entire day of work without so much as an email or a call to let them know she needed a sick day. This is going to look  _ terrible _ .  
  
The doctor points to the chair then to the door she hadn’t walked through, “feel free to get changed and washed up in there.” She then pulls another drawer open and hands Rey a small white box with a toothbrush, a small tooth paste, a comb, and one of those little hotel soaps.  
  
“I’ll get your discharge paperwork ready. It’ll all be at front desk,” she stands up to leave, opening the door then turning around as though forgetting something, “front desk is to the right. Head straight down the hallway to the elevators then down to L. Just follow the signs to reception.”  
  
Rey nods at the doctor before she’s left alone.  _ Fuck _ this is going to be expensive! They give you toothbrushes here? This is a medical freaking  _ hotel _ . Going to change into her clothes she realizes just how private this place is.   
  
Out of the window she sees a lush green courtyard with trees and benches.  _ Shit _ . Private room  _ with _ bathroom, beautiful courtyard, fancy little amenities, proprietary healing blends. Oh God, she’s crossing her fingers her credit card can take the hit. She can’t risk submitting this to insurance so it’ll all be out of pocket unfortunately. Whatever the cost, though, it’s worth it. For Ben.  
  
She makes quick work of changing, washing her face and brushing her teeth, using one of the fancy little face cloths to wipe her upper body and underarms down. God knows she must still smell like a camp fire. Once finished, she lingers a moment before deciding to grab the tin and head to reception.   
  
She holds the band out to the lady at the desk, acutely aware that she has nothing on her save her dead phone and a metro pass. This is going to be really awkward when she explains she’ll need to come back to settle the bill.  
  
The woman calmly clacks the keys on her computer, reaches for a scissor to cut off her admission band, then gives her a bright smile.  
  
“You’re all set Ms. Niima. A car is already here to pick you up. Have a wonderful day.”  
  
“W-what? How much do I owe?”  
  
“Nothing, it’s been taken care of by your emergency contact. Please,” she gestures towards the glass sliding doors where a black town car is waiting with a driver leaning against the back door.  
  
“Uh…”  
  
“Can I get you anything else Ms. Niima?”  
  
“Yeah, uh … can I get a print out of my statement?”  
  
“Aah, of course. One second please.”  
  
She shuffles around her desk area a little, clicks a few things, the printer softly beeps somewhere under her desk before the woman produces a sheet for Rey.  
  
“There you are. Have a wonderful day, Ms. Niima.”  
  
Rey clutches the sheet to her chest and walks out towards the driver.  
  
“Ms. Niima,” he smiles, opening the door.   
  
_What the fuck is going on_?  
  
She slides into the back seat, still clutching the sheet hoping this isn’t one of Palpatine’s business partners. Then again, Phasma brought her here, so how would they know? But does she trust that woman? What if this is all a big ruse? Heal her up so the pictures they send Ben make her look healthy enough to sign his company over.  
  
The driver gets into the car and begins pulling out of the hospital’s roundabout.  
  
“Do you know where I live?” she asks curiously, the driver smiles brightly, veering into traffic.  
  
“I have specific instructions to bring you to your destination,” he tells her.  
  
Rey’s hands are shaking. She peels the statement off her chest. What startles her isn’t the figure. It’s not how mind-blowingly expensive the stay was. It was her emergency contact.  
  
_ Benjamin Solo _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI - I had originally mapped out more wounds for Rey and a longer hospital stay. As the story progressed it felt wrong to keep delaying them so here we are. In 24 hours they went from being unsure of each other to knowing exactly what they are. Smooth sailing from here on out.
> 
> Oh, and we're going back to daily updates <3


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m so sorry I made you wait. So sorry,” she mumbles, voice warbling with emotion, eyes glittering with unshed tears._
> 
> _“The past and the future become unimportant. Here is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only,” he quotes, lifting his hand to clasp hers on his chest._
> 
> _“Did you…” she laughs as one tear rolls down her cheek, “did you just quote The Alchemist?”_
> 
> _He smiles right back, “I did.” His hand reaches to cradle her jaw, thumb sweeping across her cheek to wick away the tear. “What I’m trying to say is … for you I’d wait a lifetime.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen ... I give you, soulmates!

He’s called the clinic 4 times since he’s woken up and it’s barely noon. Each time he calls, she’s still sleeping. His precious, strong, fiery soulmate.   
  
The second call he’d made after waking up was to Hux. To organize the day. He’d understood the plan, seemed happy about it actually. Then again, why wouldn’t he be? Hux has been looking forward to this since they were 10. It’s what he’d been trying to achieve with every bad date, every shitty setup, even that speed dating crap.  
  
Unfortunately he’d also gotten a call after  _ that _ from his mother. She called to tell him about the news, how Snoke had been pronounced deceased on scene at The Empire. So Ben told her Rey had been involved. His mother joked they really were soulmates. Instead of his hackles rising, he felt proud. Yeah, that’s her.  _ My _ soulmate.  
  
Ben took the opportunity to tell his mother Rey wouldn’t be able to go to work and she’d taken it in stride. Then he’d asked her for Rey’s address and if she knew anyone with a key. Leia provided the address freely and mentioned she’d ask around. Which she did, at 11:30 AM, she confirmed her friend Finn had a key so Ben went to pick him up after lunch. Leia promised she wouldn’t dock him for the hours missing.  
  
That’s how he finds himself in the hallway of Rey’s apartment building at 2:00 on Monday afternoon. If you’d have asked him how he thought the week after the retreat would go, he would have said:  _ same shit different day _ . Probably answered emails, dealt with the buyout, reviewed the budgeting proposal from Poe. But that was  _ before _ he’d found his soulmate. Now the Monday after the retreat is a flurry of equal parts excitement and dread. Because she got hurt last night, she was hurt because of  _ him _ and he hates that. But she’s alive, she’d been strong - a fighter. Whenever she wakes up he’ll take care of her, dote on her, lay the world at her feet. The way he should have long ago.  
  
“So … you’re her soulmate huh?” Finn asks fidgeting.  
  
It seems like the guy’s just looking to buy time.  _ Just stick the fucking key in the door and let me in already _ .  
  
“Yep,” he can feel himself growing irate. He’s got things to do and a tight timeline to keep, dawdling is  _ not _ something he’d accounted for.  
  
He’s not leaving her again. Not tonight, not ever. So he needs to make sure she has creature comforts at his place when his plans inevitably bring them there later, when she’s awake. So he’s here to grab her … what do women need? A change of clothes or two, pajamas, some shoes. He’s not really sure what he’ll pack for her, but he’s confident he’ll know when he sees it. This isn’t breaking in, he reminds himself, not when it’s your soulmate.  
  
Ben’s hands are itching as Finn fidgets with the key. Stalling yet again. What  _ is  _ this guy’s problem? It’s not like Ben’s planning on robbing her.  
  
As the key catches in the lock and releases, the door to her neighbours swings open. Ben must look just as stunned as the neighbour, because there’s Jannah, wearing scrubs with Chewie at her side sliding out of the apartment next to his soulmate’s.  
  
“Jannah?”  
  
“Ben?”  
  
Rey’s door swings open and Chewie makes dash for it, bypassing Ben completely to hop on the sofa where he begins nuzzling against an old looking tabby cat’s head. That must be Maz. And  _ that _ is a very oddly behaved Chewie.   
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
“You’re Rey’s neighbour?”  
  
Finn is just staring at Jannah until she meets his eye. That’s when all pretense of a conversation flies out the window because there it is … that languid smile growing on their faces. Ben heaves a sigh, at least he doesn’t have to sleep with anyone to be called ‘good luck Ren’ anymore. He’s been the catalyst to what, 2 soulmate pairings in the last 24 hours?   
  
_ 3, make that 3 Ben. Soon you’ll have your own _ .  
  
Excitement starts bubbling in his chest, a reminder of why he’s here. Leaving Jannah and Finn to make googly eyes at each other, he takes a measured step and enters Rey’s space.   
  
It’s so … Rey. The apartment is small but comfortable. The walls are warm, a neutral beige, the furniture eclectic with a big teal sofa in front of a solid walnut coffee table, a fluffy chocolate toned blanket draped over the back. There’s adorable motivational posters hanging on every wall. One of an elephant straining its trunk to reach for a branch, ‘ _ GOALS, the difference between try and triumph is a little umph _ ’, another with kitten hanging onto rope ‘ _ COMMITMENT, Success seems to be largely a matter of hanging on after others have let go _ ’. They make him smile.  
  
There’s an oddly large seashell she keeps her keys in on the front console, an IKEA shoe rack that she doesn’t seem to use much because shoes are haphazardly strewn  _ around _ it. A coat rack with a huge white scarf dangling off it.  
  
Ben begins to walk down a short hallway with two doors. The first door he opens is her bathroom, standard fare, surprisingly neat considering the shoe rack. The other, her bedroom. Here he’s assaulted by the scent of cinnamon buns, vanilla and that delectable feminine musk which almost bowls him over.  
  
There’s a queen sized bed with a wrought iron bed frame, light blue sheets with tiny embroidered dragonflies, a bunch of multi-coloured throw pillows all over the floor and her clothes from the retreat strewn across her bed. Her laptop sits at a small desk adjacent to the bed, a drying bouquet of flowers beside it. The one he’d sent her so long ago.   
  
She’d clearly read the email and left almost immediately because the duffle bag she used for the retreat sits on the bed as does her toiletry bag. So Ben collects them, deeming it a good start. Now for clothing. He toes around the pillows to get to what he assumes (correctly) to be her closet and opens the door only to be assaulted by a second wave of those delicious cinnamon buns.   
  
_ Note to self: stop by a store to pick up those DIY cinnamon buns in the tin to make with Rey.  
  
_ Saliva pools in his mouth but necessity prevails. He pulls out a pair of leggings and a t-shirt that look decently folded. That’s good enough for now. If she’s cold, he isn’t averse to seeing her wear his sweaters. He quite liked the visual on the lookout deck and would really like to repeat that, except this time he can touch. His fingertips start to itch at the prospect of holding her, touching her.  
  
What else? Pajamas, undergarments … socks. The tips of his ears heat at that thought. It would be presumptuous to  _ not _ bring her something to wear to bed. Eventually that won’t be necessary, but he doesn’t want to make any assumptions. Where would she keep that stuff though?  
  
He swings around looking for an answer when his eyes settle on an IKEA dresser beside her desk. Definitely a more appropriate location for undergarments. Opening each drawer he finds old college books, her athletic drawer out of which he picks out a sports bra, blushing. He finds her sock drawer which is brimming with unpaired socks in all different colours of the rainbow. None either black or white, though there is one beetlejuice pair that’s striped and balled together. He grabs that one and a pink pair with the powerpuff girls on the toe.  
  
When he finally pulls out the drawer he’s been looking for, he chokes a little at the sight. Sure she’s a woman and he knows what to expect, but the sight of a drawer full of stringy, lacey, little scraps  _ does _ things to him. He swallows thickly and picks up a black lacy thong thinking it’s a sensible choice,  _ not _ a choice he’d like to see her in.  _ No _ . This is  _ purely _ for her own good.  
  
_ Yes he would, God dammit that’s hot _ .  
  
His phone buzzes in his pocket.

HUX: _ Driver confirmed pickup. ETA is 30 minutes. _

Shit! All fantasies thrown to the wind, Ben stuffs everything into the duffle and runs to the front, stuffing a pair of running shoes in for good measure. He jolts out the front door, past Jannah and Finn who are standing in the hallway with their foreheads pressed together.  
  
“Lock up Rey’s will you?” he hollers back to Finn running to the elevator, “I’ll tell Leia you got caught up.”  
  
The elevator door dings, “and Jannah, can you keep Chewie another night?”  
  
He doesn’t wait for an answer. Ben’s running for his life. To his car. Races through the congested afternoon traffic of Coruscant back to his office to wait for his soulmate.

  
  


—————————————————-

  
  


It takes the driver 30 minutes to get to wherever they’re going, only Rey doesn’t recognize the route at all. She’s not worried anymore, only nervous. The good kind. The ‘I’m going skydiving’ kind. Not that she’d go skydiving, but with Ben, maybe she would.  
  
The car takes a sharp left turn into a business park Rey’s never been in. She closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath, the scent of Ben’s sweater still lingering, transcending the burning building and fighting it managed to survive. It’s  _ him _ , it’s always  _ been _ him.  
  
She’d been afraid of facing her old life, pretending to be someone else without a past for her soulmate. She’d never imagined he’d not only know about it, but have been an active participant in it. In many ways, he’s even more her soulmate than just biologically speaking. They’re so much more than just perfectly compatible. They’re two parts of a whole. Equally broken, equally lonely, equally strong. Like two puzzle pieces laser cut to be exact matches for one another.   
  
He can be irritating, brash and clearly violent judging by what she remembers of Kylo Ren, but no more than she is herself. He can also be sweet, thoughtful, a good listener. He’d managed to steal her heart before she’d even known the truth. This is  _ so _ much more than just biology.  
  
The car pulls up into an empty parking lot navigating to the back. She recognizes the flat design logo on the front doors and takes a deep, steadying breath in.  _ This is it _ . Today is the first day of the rest of her life.  
  
The driver navigates to the back door where a very dapper Hux walks out of the doors towards the car, smiling brightly. When it stops, he swings the door open, holding his hand out to her.  
  
“Ready?”  
  
She nods, wide eyed, and takes his hand getting out of the vehicle.  
  
“Did you … was that you?” she points back at the car.  
  
“Ben told you about the speed dating thing did he?”  
  
She laughs nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.  
  
“That was all Ben actually. But that  _ is _ the same driver he yelled at. It took a bit of convincing to get him to do a favour for Ben,” Hux laughs, “right this way.”  
  
He leads her into the building, the one she should have walked into months ago. She should have come to interview everyone in person. They would have known then and there. Damn her for being lazy, for being a hermit. The building is empty, the main floor so quiet you can hear the wind rustling through the courtyard at the center of it.  
  
A courtyard. His office has a fucking  _ courtyard _ . Just like that medical clinic except this one was much nicer. A big blue spruce sits in the middle, small patio tables and chairs with umbrellas dot the perimeter. There’s enough lawn around the to lay down a picnic, to lay down a dozen picnics.  
  
She must be staring at it a little too hard because Hux points at it and says, “we light that tree up every Christmas, bring in mulled wine and have gingerbread decorating competitions.”  
  
His hand finds her lower back and he guides her towards a living wall that nestles two elevators.  
  
“When did you know?” she asks him, mostly to fill the quiet. To give herself something to focus on other than the steady, heavy thumping of her heart.  
  
“God you guys really do share a single brain cell,” he muses, “with certainty? Last Wednesday. Of course I saw your mark when you were last at our place, but it wasn’t until I saw his again that I knew for certain.”  
  
“Is that right?” she cajoles, “and you kept it from us all this time?”  
  
“I … uh, look,” he stops looking at her seriously, arms clasped tightly behind his back, “he had a rough few months before this weekend.”  
  
His hand finds the button to call the elevator.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
Hux sighs and ushers her in when the doors ding open, pressing the button to the top floor. “He scented you months ago on the subway. Leia did a bit of digging but didn’t see your mark,” he continues a bit sheepishly as elevator hums, “that sent him into a bit of a spiral. To be frank, he was depressed. Because he was convinced it’s you.”  
  
“Is … is that why he was acting so strangely at the retreat?”  
  
Hux nods.  
  
_ Of course, _ it makes sense now. The way he stood in the doorway of her hut like he couldn’t leave but couldn’t stay. The way he always seemed like he was walking a tightrope much like herself until there was no denying the pull between them and they’d both just given in. And now Leia’s odd behaviour that day, the way she’d raked her forearms and neck…  
  
“You heard none of it from me,” Hux gives her a pointed look, “I’m sure he’ll tell you on his own time. But right now, I owe my best friend the biggest favour.”  
  
The doors of the elevator swing open to reveal a series of glass walled offices and conference rooms. A large open area in front with another living wall breaking the view to the back offices and a big green sofa in front. Hux is placing a steadying hand on her lower back again, guiding her to a small staircase in the corner.  
  
“Up the stairs and straight ahead. He’s waiting for you,” he smiles at her with what might just be tears in his eyes.  
  
Rey nods and takes a steadying breath before taking the first two steps.  
  
“And Rey? I’m happy for you.  _ Both _ of you.”  
  
She can’t help but smile back at the COO of the company that had changed her life. Her best friend’s soulmate. Her own soulmate’s best friend.   
  
_ This is it, Rey, these are your final steps. Rise and take them. _

  
  


—————————————————-

  
  


He watched the car arrive, saw Hux usher her into the building. All the while his heart beats in his throat. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous, she’s his soulmate for fuck’s sake. But he is nonetheless. The best kind of nervous.  
  
Ben can feel her approaching. It’s a latent electricity that skips over his skin setting him on edge. Around him the Japanese maples rustle with the warmth of an early summer breeze, koi fish swim lazy circles in the pond, the late afternoon sun overheats his black hair.  
  
And then she’s there, standing in the doorway. His beautiful, strong soulmate, wearing his too-big hoodie, smiling at him brightly, drawing him in like a magnet.  
  
“Ben,” she all but whispers, her words carry across the rooftop garden by his attuned hearing, by the way he’s tunnelled into her. The way he can hear nothing  _ but _ her.  
  
They’re drawn to one another like gravity, resistance is utterly futile. She takes off towards him at a full sprint, launching herself into his open arms. The mark on his forearm burns at the proximity, hot against her upper back where he’s all but enveloped her in his body. Raw, unfettered joy courses through him at  _ finally _ having his soulmate.  
  
“You’re really here…” he murmurs against the crown of her head. He’s so happy he could cry.   
  
“It’s really you…” she whispers back against his chest, breaths heavy and stuttered.   
  
This feels so right, so  _ good _ , to have her here, like this. Her scent filling his lungs and wrapping around him like a comfortable blanket. Her presence makes him feel whole, like he’s been a shell of himself until this very moment. Ben closes his eyes and lets the quiet comfort of togetherness wash over him, lets the world melt away into nothingness. All he needs, will  _ ever _ need, is already in his arms.  
  
He hears her mumble something but can’t be sure, he’s got her cocooned, pressed into himself tightly. Is he suffocating her?  
  
“What’s that sweetheart?” He pulls away only enough to meet her eyes. His hand unwraps from around her subconsciously, lifting up to trace the outline of her jaw.  
  
“I said do it,” she tells him with nervous determination.   
  
Ben blinks at her once, twice, not really understanding before it clicks. The marks. They’ve waited too long, she needs this as much as he. She wants to forge the bond, his needy angel.  
  
He nods and swallows down his nerves, eyes never leaving hers, big and shiny, so full of hope.  
  
She pulls back only a little, just enough to grasp his right arm and start unbuttoning his shirt sleeve. Her deft little fingers shake, pulling and rolling at his sleeve to expose his forearm. Her eyes scan but don’t land on anything, as usual. Ben’s left hand wraps around her fingers tenderly, bringing them to his mark, tracing it with her fingers. Her touch alone wracks him with a full body shiver. He sees her lips part, a small exhale, her lips quirk before stepping back in, closer.  
  
His right arm drops to her back, snaking around her waist slowly. Fingers finding the hem of his hoodie, pulling it up and up until his fingertips graze bare skin, eyes never parting. Their breathing hitches in unison at the touch, kinetic energy dances across his forearm as it slides across her lower back. Her hands rise to press softly into his chest, their bodies coming together naturally, the way they were meant to. And that’s when it happens. Their marks make contact.  
  
His hidden shame, nestled among tattoos locks into place against her lower back and for a moment there’s nothing but a blinding white flash and a searing heat against the skin of his forearm. His eyes close and his heartbeat stutters. The fact that their rhythms are falling in beat with each other registers subconsciously. There’s a sharp intake of air, but whether it’s his own or hers, he doesn’t know.  
  
What he does know is that it feels like breathing for the first time. Like they’ve been binary stars, always in orbit with one another but never meeting. Until today, when gravity finally pulled them to each other, to inevitably become one with the force of a supernova. Together they’re stronger, better, two that are one. It’s a wholeness that can’t be put into words, and yet he’ll gladly spend a lifetime trying to describe it.  
  
It feels like he’s been lost in space his whole life, watching the world turn and turn but never setting foot on the ground until he’d found her. She’s his first breath of air, the grounding gravity beneath his feet, the sunlight above and the oxygen in the air. It’s both like free falling and being anchored all at once. Finding absolution and release in this moment with her.  
  
The bond is forged and he feels her essence seep into him just as his seeps into her. He can  _ feel _ what she feels.  _ Hear _ what she thinks. He’s in her now, just as she’s in him, a shared soul finally becoming whole.  
  
Sounds are muffled, his movements feel slow, his vision is all but a tunnelled blur, all he can see is her, in crystal clear resolution. And nothing else matters really. It’s just  _ her _ , and  _ him _ , and  _ them _ from this day on.  
  
He can see their future spread before them, the shape of it solid and clear. Quiet moments of laughter, holding hands, a home, little dark haired children with dimples and light dustings of freckles, and the undercurrent of energy that binds them to each other.  
  
He doesn’t know which one of them it is, maybe it’s this coming together of binary stars, the natural pull of their union. They close the distance between them, noses brushing each other tenderly. Faces tilting  _ just so _ as the final two puzzle pieces turn to join together.   
  
Their lips meet and the world melts away. Liquefies into nothing. There’s nothing but her now. The apocalypse may come and it really wouldn’t matter because here, now, in this bubble, is his whole world.   
  
Her hands move up to cradle his head, fingers card gently through his hair. His only instinct is to return the closeness by gripping her tighter, pulling her into him with their marks pressed together. It’s slow, and sweet, and tender the way her lips move against his. The way they press together for the perfect kiss. The way it’s equal parts hungry and passionate but also unhurried.   
  
His lungs burn for want of oxygen but he relents nothing, claims every inch left between them to fill empty space with  _ her _ . Breathing is secondary, optional. Their lips part slightly, only enough for them to capture a small breath before connecting again. This time their mouths open, their tongues meet to roll slowly against each other, deepening the kiss. He’s only slightly aware that she’s lifting to her toes. Only slightly aware that her arms tighten that much further around him.  
  
It’s beautiful, otherworldly,  _ glorious _ how they fit each other. How there is nothing,  _ nothing _ , that could complete him quite like this moment right now.  
  
He’s not sure which one of them it is, which one of them has the presence of mind to tamp down the building heat between them. But they do. The fire that’s been building reduces to slow burning embers and their mouths disconnect only just enough to allow them to breathe. Their foreheads press together in mutual adoration, feeling their hearts beating against each other, feeling the contentment in their forged bond.  
  
“I love you,” he murmurs breathlessly, “just for existing.”  
  
She laughs softly, a nervous puff of air. He lets his feelings wash over her, through the bond. How happy he is, how much he’s loved her even before he’d met her. The hope she carries, the promise.  
  
Her hand slides down to graze his jaw, tracing the curvature to come up to his chin. She pulls her forehead slightly, giving his chin a flick to meet her eyes. They’re sad, so sad. He can feel the hurt before she even speaks.  
  
“I’m so sorry I made you wait.  _ So _ sorry,” she mumbles, voice warbling with emotion, eyes glittering with unshed tears.  
  
“The past and the future become unimportant. Here is only that moment, and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only,” he quotes, lifting his hand to clasp hers on his chest.  
  
“Did you…” she laughs as one tear rolls down her cheek, “did you just quote The Alchemist?”  
  
He smiles right back, “I did.” His hand reaches to cradle her jaw, thumb sweeping across her cheek to wick away the tear. “What I’m trying to say is … for you I’d wait a lifetime.”  
  
He can see her eyes close, can hear her contented humm. His right arm releases her waist to cradle the back of her head, disconnecting their foreheads to press a kiss just there. She sighs into him, releasing every muscle against him. He tucks her head under his chin, enveloping her closer.  
  
They stay there, happy to finally be together. Happy to have finally become one.  
  
It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. A low rumble breaks their silence, her stomach. He hears himself say, “you wanna get out of here?”  
  
She only giggles as he feels her head brush up and down his chest in a nod.

  
  



	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The order he’d placed at Yavin arrived while she was soaking. 3 orders of Shanghai noodles, 2 hot and sour soups, a double order of spring rolls, a side of bok choy and a handful of fortune cookies. He’d laid it all out on the island and went to lounge on the sofa when she’d plodded into the living room. Instead of her pajamas he so painstakingly chose from her dresser, she’s wearing one of his t-shirts hanging down to her mid-thigh, her toothbrush poking out of the corner of her mouth adorably. Hair damp and loose around her face, skin flushed from the heat of the shower. That view does things to him._
> 
> _He must have audibly gulped because she smiles slyly._
> 
> _“Why do you have my stuff?” she mouths with the toothbrush bulging in her cheek. Another visual that does things to him._
> 
> _“Uh…”_
> 
> _Well? He hadn’t thought that far ahead, had he? He’d wanted her to be comfortable but now has to explain why he’d essentially broken into her place (albeit with the help of her friend). His mouth flaps open and shut while she eyes him. There’s no heat there, but he’s embarrassed nonetheless._

Ben is … everything you could ever need to survive. He’s air, he’s water, he’s home. He’s sunshine and forever. He’d given her the most encompassing hug of her life, forged their bond, held her,  _ kissed _ her. Being with him was like all the loneliness and rejection in her life had never happened because  _ he _ is the antithesis of all those things. He’s the opposite of loneliness, the opposite of rejection.  _ Home _ . That’s what he is.  
  
Her stomach had given her away. If it hadn’t been for it gurgling she would have happily stayed in his arms, letting the world go by. Would gladly petrify to remain frozen, suspended in this moment forever. He’d offered to go. She wasn’t sure where, but she had an idea. One that made her stomach do flip flops.  
  
Hand in hand they walked down the stairs. He told her about how he’d spent weeks cooped up in that (he pointed at one of the glass conference rooms) boardroom with an urban landscape architect to make that rooftop oasis happen, holding her close all the while. The elevator took them down and he’d held her closer still, explaining the living walls. He held her hand to the parking lot, opened the door to the Silencer and deposited her into the cabin with a lingering kiss to the forehead. She didn’t know it was possible to feel  _ this _ whole,  _ this _ happy. It’s encompassing, finding your soulmate.   
  
He laced his fingers through hers in her lap and started driving. The car silent, the cabin clear of clutter. Only a big screen in the center of the console showing his speedometer, available mileage, and GPS map. There were a bunch of icons she’d love nothing more than to tap on but refrained, splitting her attention between staring at the screen and their interlaced fingers. How perfectly they fit together, how tightly he held her, how his roughened thumb pad rubbed circles over the thin skin of the back of her hand.   
  
Occasionally, at a red light he’d lift their hands to his face and graze his lips against her knuckles tenderly. Placing kisses there, one that made her shiver. Smiling that beautiful toothy smile of his that made her heart melt and words fail. She’d never been the reason someone was happy, not  _ this _ happy.   
  
The city passed by outside the window but she saw none of it, barely registered they’d entered a suburban area when he finally pulled over at the side of the road. Dusk had set in bathing the empty country road ahead in a beautiful golden haze. Their fingers disconnected and she whimpered at the loss until that same hand moved up to cradle her jaw.   
  
He gave no hint to what he was planning, only stepped out of the driver's side to walk over to hers, open her door and hold her hand out to him.  
  
“You know, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to kill your soulmate hours after joining,” she cajoled.  
  
“Come on,” he coaxed, smiling that beautiful lopsided smile of his, dimples and all.  
  
She took his hand, stepping out into the warm early summer air only to be swept up into his arms, enveloped. A kiss falls on the crown of her head. “You drive,” he murmurs into her hair and her heart leaps into her throat.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I know you want to…” he pulls back to trace her jaw, an act he seems fond of. One she’ll let him do every day for the rest of her life if he likes.  _ This _ is why they’re here. He’s doing this for  _ her _ . Gifting her an open stretch of road. She can only grin, nod, and skip to the drivers side, excitement coursing through her veins.  
  
“I assume your phone is dead?” he’s sitting in the passenger seat, adjusting the space to fit his long legs. Hers are halfway to the pedals and he gives a little laugh when he notices. “You can adjust the seat like normal cars, on the side there,” he points, “give me your phone.”  
  
She does without hesitation and sees him fumble to connect it to a hidden charger in the console while she fixes the seat and tests her reach of the pedals. Leaning back, she looks ahead at the open stretch of road. A squeal escapes her, one that’s been building up since he’d said those magical words and she can’t help bouncing with giddy excitement.  
  
Ben’s tapping a few things here and there on the screen. Toggling things on and off. Autopilot - off. Regenerative breaking - off. “It’s awkward if you’re not used to it,” he says in passing when he toggles that one. She’d like to ask what it does but that’s for another day.  
  
“Ok, principle is the same as every other car. This is your dashboard,” he waves his majestically large hand across the screen, “You adjust the side mirrors over there,” he points to the left of the steering wheel, “your gears are this lever,” he lifts her hand to touch the lever to the right of the steering wheel.   
  
“It’ll take off, so go easy on the acceleration. If you go too hard it’ll feel like a rollercoaster.”  
  
That makes her more excited than it should. She nods biting her lip in excitement, one she knows he can feel because he’s grinning that beautiful grin again.   
  
Her foot presses the brake pedal, pulling the gear shift into drive.  
  
“I suppose this is a bad time to ask if you have a license?” She just laughs and maneuvers off the shoulder, easing on the gas pedal to get a feel for the car.   
  
It’s quiet, so quiet. It’s light, responsive and sturdy. Ben has settled into the passenger seat, an easy smile never leaving his face. He’s content to be doing this for her. She sees his eyes drop to his phone, tapping something into it and her eyes drift ahead to the open road. Without rhyme or reason, without fanfare or warning, she applies steady pressure to the acceleration pedal. The Silencer takes off just like he’d said. It feels like a roller coaster dropping. She’s pulled back like a space shuttle taking off. Body and organs pulled tightly into the seat.  
  
Ben gasps, Rey can’t stop giggling.

  
  


[x]

  
  


After the initial excitement, after she’d gotten used to the car, he’d tapped the screen a few times and the GPS drew a green line.  _ Home _ , it said.  _ Home _ is where they’re going. She followed the instructions, letting Ben guide her once they’d gotten back into the core. He guided her into the garage of his building, into his spot.   
  
He’d jumped out and started walking towards the doors when she stopped, staring back at the car. He just waved his phone and said it was already locked. He’d pulled her in close again in the elevator, swiping his fob and pressing PH2.  _ Of course _ he’d live in the penthouse. But that’s neither here nor there, because he’s holding her like she’s the most precious thing in the world and it feels good.  
  
The doors open to a foyer, all white marble and pot lights. A sleek black console table with a black leather ottoman tucked underneath and a black rimmed mirror hung above to the right. To the left a set of mirrored french doors. The coat closet, she assumes.   
  
Ahead through a short, wide hallway the room opened into an open concept space with immaculate dark hardwood floors. To the right an expanse of sleek white cupboards make up the kitchen, taking up the entirety of the wall. A huge white island with a marble waterfall countertop separates the kitchen from the rest of the space. Black bar stools tucked neatly under the edge. To the left is a long black sectional sofa facing a mounted TV on the opposite wall, beyond that a rustic dining table and modern chairs. Beyond  _ that _ is the most incredible view she’s ever seen.   
  
Floor to ceiling windows run the width of the living space overlooking the expanse of Coruscant. The sun had long set and the city below is bathed in neon lights. Her feet carry her to the windows where she halts, leaning against them to take in the sight.  
  
Ben’s reflection grows nearer, his hands fall to her waist and she feels his breath near her temple. Closing her eyes, humming contentment she lets him envelope her, pressing a kiss to her temple. It’s an easy peace. Even in a foreign apartment, surrounded by things she’s never seen. His presence is everything she’d ever need to feel at home. Him,  _ Ben _ , whom she’d circled for the better part of 6 years, whom she’d let down by not seeing him for who he was from the start. In his arms, she promised herself quietly that she’d do anything,  _ everything _ , to make up for that. Every single day forward.  
  
His lips graze lower to her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “Can I interest you in a shower?”  
  
She gasps, swatting his forearm playfully, “Mr. Solo are you saying I stink? Or are you trying to get me naked?”  
  
“Neither,” he presses a wet kiss to her cheek, “I just want you to feel comfortable.” He twirls her around in his arms, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “and I assume you want to wash the hospital and that horrible nightclub off.”  
  
He pauses then, looking at her,  _ really _ looking at her then his lips quirk into a mischievous grin, “I assure you my motives are pure … unless yours aren’t?” At that they’d both giggled, foreheads coming together. She looped her arms around his neck and nodded. A shower would be nice.  
  
“Come on,” he murmured, lifting her up. Her legs automatically closed around his waist, his arms tightening around her as if it was natural, as if they’d done this a thousand times. He carried her, kissed her, all the way down a hall. His head would dip this direction or that, murmuring “laundry,” or “office,” or “powder,” against her lips. Like her eyes weren’t closed. Like she cared about rooms when her senses were filled with  _ him _ . He walked her through the bedroom into a master bath that puts her tiny bathroom to shame. It’s big, black tiles on the floor, in the giant shower, a freestanding tub.  
  
He deposits her on the black quartz countertop, begins fidgeting with the shower dials until it’s perfect then leaves her dumbstruck sitting on the counter. On his return he’s cradling a plethora of fluffy white towels, what looks to be a pair of her pajama bottoms and a tank top neatly folded on top, and her toiletry bag.  
  
He pulls her in close again, kisses her soundly and walks out telling her he’d be in the living room.  
  
“You’re not…”  
  
At that he’d waltzed back in, kissed her soundly and murmured that he’d love nothing more, but that he doubted she’d get very clean. She only giggled, relented, letting him sneak out and shut the door.  
  
As she’s standing under the soothing spray of the shower lathering herself with the naturally scented, organic shampoos and soaps, she realizes he’d somehow managed to acquire her stuff.  
  
_ Her sneaky soulmate. _

  
  


—————————————————-

  
  


Walking away from  _ her _ , walking away from the bathroom was easier than he’d imagined. Sure, he’d wanted to stay. But she’d definitely not get clean. He’d do all kinds of unspeakable things to her in the shower. Run up his water bill staying in there until they were both pruned to perfection.   
  
No, she needed to wash the clinic off, the Empire. He wanted her comfortable. He wants to snuggle, that’s what he really wants right now. Every ounce of testosterone in his body rages at being denied the opportunity to conquer. But he knows better. He’s got his whole life with her, what’s a few more minutes?  
  
The order he’d placed at Yavin arrived while she was soaking. 3 orders of Shanghai noodles, 2 hot and sour soups, a double order of spring rolls, a side of bok choy and a handful of fortune cookies. He’d laid it all out on the island and went to lounge on the sofa when she’d plodded into the living room. Instead of her pajamas he so painstakingly chose from her dresser, she’s wearing one of his t-shirts hanging down to her mid-thigh, her toothbrush poking out of the corner of her mouth adorably. Hair damp and loose around her face, skin flushed from the heat of the shower. That view  _ does _ things to him.  
  
He must have audibly gulped because she smiles slyly.  
  
“Why do you have my stuff?” she mouths with the toothbrush bulging in her cheek. Another visual that  _ does _ things to him.  
  
“Uh…”  
  
Well? He hadn’t thought that far ahead, had he? He’d wanted her to be comfortable but now has to explain why he’d essentially broken into her place (albeit with the help of her friend). His mouth flaps open and shut while she eyes him. There’s no heat there, but he’s embarrassed nonetheless.  
  
She moves over to the kitchen sink to spit and rinse her mouth.  _ That _ also does things to him. Why is she torturing him like this? Does she not know those mile long legs of hers  _ do _ things to him?  
  
“You … uh … why … not pajamas - Food?”  
  
Words Ben, find them,  _ use _ them for fucks sake.  
  
Her toothbrush gets placed haphazardly on the counter, next to the takeout containers she seems to take little note of because she’s honed into him. It’s amazing, he briefly thinks, how comfortable she already is. How easily she’s slipped into his life, into his house and made it a home. How easily she fits. How much her presence was missing, a fact he hadn’t even known until exactly now.  
  
That’s all the thinking he can do before she straddles him, sitting on his lap  _ in his t-shirt _ . Red alert Ben. Her warm minty breath fans across his face, a little smirk graces her perfect face.  
  
“You can touch me, you know?” she murmurs nudging her nose against his, face inching closer. He gulps, definitely audible this time and his hands shoot up robotically to settle on her bare thighs.   
  
“S-shirt … m-mine.” This time it’s not a lack of words so much as a lack of blood flow to his brain.  
  
She kisses him softly once, twice. Her fingers drifting up the column of his neck to cradle his jaw.  
  
“Yes that’s your shirt,” she laughs against his lips before connecting again. And holy fucking shit he can’t think anymore. His right hand snakes up beneath the shirt where there’s absolutely  _ zero _ resistance because she’s foregone any form of undergarment *wheeze*. His forearm slides smoothly against her bare skin to join their marks together and it’s complete and utter heaven.   
  
Her head pulls back just a touch, eyes closed, forehead pressed against his, “I love you, you know” she whispers, “just for existing.”  
  
He can’t help but smile at that. At the way she uses his own words on him. Marvel at how much they mean to him, how much they affect him. His left arm leaves her thigh, ghosts slowly up her side to push her hair behind her ear and cradle the back of her head.  
  
“I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” he answers honestly. Because he is. He’s circled his soulmate for the better part of 6 years and like the idiot he is it took being practically slapped together to realize it. He’d wasted so much time, left her so lonely. He promises himself right there, in their living room, that he’d do anything to make up for that. For the rest of his days.  
  
An easy smile blooms across her face. A kiss pressed on the corner of his mouth.   
  
“For you,” another kiss on the other corner, “I’d wait,” a soft peck in the middle, “forever,” she sighs, opening her mouth against his.

  
  


[x]

  
  


Later,  _ much _ later, Ben lays in his bed. Sweaty, flushed,  _ sated _ . Rey is curled up dozing in his arms, her soft skin pressed tightly to his, her fingers running lazy circles up and down his sternum. The food long grown cold, untouched on the kitchen island. Outside rain patters against the windows, the bedroom dark, bathed in the soft lights of the city.  
  
He presses a kiss against her forehead.  
  
“I love you because the whole universe conspired to help me find you,” he murmurs against her forehead.  
  
He can feel her smile against his chest, her breath tickling his pectoral.  
  
“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving,” her head turns slightly to press a kiss against his chest. Then suddenly, she snorts and bursts out laughing.  
  
“Did we really just converse in The Alchemist?”  
  
“Yeah,” he smiles at her “yeah … we did.”  
  
He can’t help the way his hand reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Can’t help how his index finger traces her jaw line. The way his thumb grazes the spray of freckles from her nose and up the curve of her cheekbone.   
  
“You hungry now?”  
  
“Mmm,” she hums, “the best part of Yavin is that it's exceptionally better cold.”  
  
Her lips find his again.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!
> 
> I kid, we have an epilogue for tomorrow.
> 
> Side note - I borrowed quite a bit of this from another fic I wrote. I haven't published it but it's next on the list.


	25. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It’s been 3 months. 3 beautiful months of having her soulmate in her life. The light of her life. Her Ben Solo. With his deep soulful eyes, now less sad, brighter. With his heart meltingly beautiful crooked smile, his soul crushing dimples, his soft hair she now knows is thanks to Aveda. Her Ben Solo with the strong arms, the encompassing hugs, the gentle kisses. Her personal radiator in bed._
> 
> _They’d wasted no time. Within the first week she’d moved her stuff in. Most of it she’d sold on Facebook’s marketplace with the exception of a few knick knacks she was a little too fond of. He’d even replaced some of his stuff with hers. Let her place her giant seashell on the console for their keys, helped her frame and hang her motivational posters which now marred the clean white walls around the living room._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a ride writing this one. What had originally started as a therapeutic AU snowballed into a pretty elaborate story but we made it to the end. Thank you for sticking through with it. I certainly hope I did our dyad proud.
> 
> In honour of Hux's OCD, mind the word count <3

They pull into a parking spot down the street from their destination. Her hands are sweaty but his grip never leaves her. Fingers intertwined tightly. After he puts the car in park he lifts up her hand, grazing her knuckles with his lips lightly. An act he does daily that makes her smile every single time.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
She nods, trying to be brave but she knows he can see right through it. Rey Niima, of Jakku. Kira the Scavenger. A volatile menace with any weapon 4 feet or longer. Not scared of blood or breaking bone. Scared absolutely shitless of what she’s about to do.  
  
Ben ushers her out of the car, his arm slings around her waist pulling her in tightly. There’s a contentment in him. She can feel it. He’s proud. Proud of her, of  _ them _ .

  
  
  


It’s been 3 months. 3 beautiful months of having her soulmate in her life. The  _ light _ of her life. Her Ben Solo. With his deep soulful eyes, now less sad, brighter. With his heart meltingly beautiful crooked smile, his soul crushing dimples, his soft hair she now knows is thanks to Aveda. Her Ben Solo with the strong arms, the encompassing hugs, the gentle kisses. Her personal radiator in bed.  
  
They’d wasted no time. Within the first week she’d moved her stuff in. Most of it she’d sold on Facebook’s marketplace with the exception of a few knick knacks she was a little too fond of. He’d even replaced some of his stuff with hers. Let her place her giant seashell on the console for their keys, helped her frame and hang her motivational posters which now marred the clean white walls around the living room.  
  
Little touches of her old life dot their home and Ben seems to like it. He’s more than willing to add touches of colour to his otherwise black and white abode. Happy to let her bring in more knick knacks. Mostly though, her stuff sits in the few stacked boxes, neatly arranged in the closet of his office. Besides her clothes, that is, to which he’d stoically conceded three quarters of his closet to. Most of his stuff now resides in the guest bedroom. He’d even brought in her IKEA shoe rack and fitted it inside the coat closet. 

  
  
  


The door swings open and a doorbell chimes when they step inside. A seedy looking type of guy with a shaved head, piercings out the ying yang and a skin mostly covered in tattoos looks at them indifferently.   
  
“You have an appointment?”  
  
“Yeah,” she squeaks out, “Rey? 6:00 PM?”  
  
“Right this way,” he walks through a beaded curtain, the place smells like sterile wash and weed. They walk down a narrow hallway, hands clasped, into a small room with a few chairs and one of those small little massage looking beds.  
  
A woman clad in black leather walks in. She’s got heavy eyeliner and blood red lipstick on. She’s holding a big sheet of transfer paper and motions for Rey to remove her shirt. She does. While Ben cradles her face and peppers it with kisses.  
  
“Are you scared?”

  
  
  


Their first weeks together they’d both taken vacation days. Mostly to move her stuff but also to forge their bond. Deepen their connection. They were never apart for more than a few minutes. Mostly because neither could handle it.  
  
They’d recounted their days as their other selves, laughing about it. Like they weren’t selling drugs or intimidating the shit out of people. Like they weren’t a bunch of degenerate criminals. More like old college friends catching up and reminiscing.  
  
Hux had taken over for Ben in stride, calling at intervals to check. Mostly the calls went unanswered and were followed up with a smirking emoji text. Rose would send her eggplant texts. Both would get ignored.   
  
Her first week back at work Leia had called her into her office. Hugged her and cried. Asked for her forgiveness then asked to see her mark. Rey obliged her, mostly for Ben. Rose had later sent her a dozen eggplant emojis via Google hangouts. Ben had packed her lunch, her sweet sequoia of a soulmate.

  
  
  


“I’m not scared!” she bites. But there’s no teeth. She loves him. What she’s really trying to do is convince  _ herself _ she’s not scared.  
  
The transfer paper peels off and the three of them eye the work critically in the mirror. It’s a series of lotus blossoms with angelica, camomile, edelweiss and thyme crawling from her lower back up her side to her shoulder. All set around a swooping Phoenix, weaving into its wings and tail. Her mark is in the center of the biggest lotus flower. It’s  _ big _ and it’s  _ beautiful _ and she’s totally doing this.  
  
“You OK sweetheart?”

  
  
  


He  _ still _ picks up her shoes after her.  _ Still _ folds her laundry. He makes her breakfast and drives her to work. Scratch that, he doesn’t just drive her to work, he literally parks and walks her to her desk, visiting his mother after he’s deposited her safely in her cubicle. Ben’s becoming a bit of a fixture at Rebel Media Group. He picks her up and they hold hands driving home.  _ Every. Single. Day _ . He’s even carved out a small nook in his office, convincing Leia she can work from there once a week.  
  
When she’d moved her stuff she’d taken the dried bouquet of flowers she’d received almost half a year ago and placed it in the middle of the dining table. He’d smiled and asked if she knew what those were. She recited Leia’s list of flower names before realization crashed around her. “ _ You _ sent these?” she’d asked, eyes wide, floored by the revelation. He’d only nodded and kissed her deeply. Another hint she hadn’t had the foresight to acknowledge. Another bit of Ben she’d missed like the idiot she was. She’d promised herself she’d make up for it.

  
  
  


“Yeah. I’m totally doing this,” she looks up at him expectantly. She  _ needs _ his strength because she  _ can _ do this. Right? She absolutely  _ will _ do this. It’s just a needle right? A needle that’ll be buzzing into her skin for the next couple of hours. A needle she’ll have multiple sessions with over the next few months. At least he’d gone to Kamino Clinic to buy her more of that overpriced but totally worth it level-up polysporin.  _ Fuck _ she’s scared but she won’t admit it, nuh-uh.   
  
“You don’t have to do this.”  
  
But she does. This is for herself as much as it is for him. All those years they danced around each other. He kicks himself about the beautiful art etched into his arm, she knows it. Feels it every time they’re snuggled together on the sofa watching a documentary and she idly traces their mark with her fingers. She wants to join him. Wants to show him that it’s not just OK, it’s perfect and he’s perfect and  _ they’re _ perfect.

  
  
  


On weekends they do silly things. Things like do nothing but snuggle. On Saturday night they have date night where they either go out or order in some ridiculous new food neither have tried. That’s how they’d tried hundred year egg (neither liked it), deep fried locust (both liked it), and pickled herring (the jury was out on that one, it was  _ ok _ but nothing to write home about).   
  
They’d gotten into the habit of taking Chewie for long walks. They’d even gotten Maz one of those neat little cat backpacks which Rey shoves the cat into, to bring her along. At first the poor feline would meow incessantly, until she’d realized that it meant she’d come along on walks, would get to come out at the park on a leash with Chewie. That was the biggest surprise, finding out just how much their pets had bonded.  
  
Last weekend they’d visited Jakku together. She’d pointed out this school she’d gone to, or that house a dealer lived in. They’d passed by the old House of Ren, now rebuilt as a roadside diner in the middle of nowhere. They’d spent the night at a shoddy motel in Jakku, gone to the bar they’d met behind, went to home base in the shoddy alley way behind it -  _ fuck the security camera _ .

  
  
  


“I want to,” she tells him quietly.  
  
And he nods smiling that beautiful soulful smile at her. The one that melts her heart and is the air beneath her wings. The one with the dimples and the flash of crooked teeth.   
  
“It’ll hurt like hell. Especially around the mark.”  
  
“You’ll be here, right?”  
  
“Of course. Every second of every minute.”

  
  
  


This weekend they’re planning on going to Ahch-To. Leia had strong-armed Ben’s uncle into leaving the resort again and freeing up a hut. She knows why they’re going. It’s not just retracing their past steps and re-building their old lives together. She’d found the little box in his sock drawer when she was putting away laundry. The  _ one _ time in their 3 months together she’d actually tried to be useful. It was small, old, lacquered wood. She didn’t need to open it to know what was inside. It made her grin like a buffoon and jump on him the minute he walked through the door with dinner. They didn’t bother eating that night.

  
  
  


Rey straddles the chair hunching over the back to give the artist a clean canvas. Her shirt wrapped tightly in Ben’s fist, she counted her lucky stars for small mercies like those sticky backless bras. He settles in front of her, their eyes never leaving each other’s. He’s being her rock and she knows it, drinking in the support and strength he’s giving her through their bond.  
  
In the distance she hears the sound of gloves snapping, the tinkling of glass jars being set down, the telltale buzzing of the needle.  
  
“Sweetheart? Here, take my hand. I love you, angel”  
  
She nods as the needle starts to drag a hot papercut across her skin. And she does, she takes Ben’s hand and sees, feels, hears nothing but him.

  
  



End file.
